


In Noctem

by BaaderMeinhof7



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: Aegon and Arya y’all, F/M, Slow Burn, book canon only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaaderMeinhof7/pseuds/BaaderMeinhof7
Summary: He was going to have her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, sorry for any grammar mistakes, English isn’t my native tongue. I hope you guys enjoy.

Damn her, he thought. Damn that austere and unruly countenance, her recklessness and lack of etiquette, her unnatural and sinful disposition. Ever since Brandon Stark had sent his sisters to the Southern Court to negotiate the sharing of the Riverlands, Lady Arya - as if she deserved such title - offered Aegon nothing but scorn.  
Lady Sansa arrived first, accompanied by 50 guards carrying direwolve banners. Aegon, however, busy with affairs of the Crown and a visit to Dragonstone, had only the opportunity to greet her at the tournament to celebrate the peace in the Seven Kingdoms, though one of these, the endless North, was no longer under the dominion of House Targaryen.  
The splendor of the event was such as to enchant even the highest-ranking vassals and members of the Essossi nobility who attended. The food oscillated between the fiery flavors of Dorne and the refined tastes from the Reach. The entrance table was decorated with black bread; salted fish; mushroom soup, spinach salad and snake marinated in sour wine, filled with tubers, purple olives and other delicacies. The main meal consisted of lamb tempered with herbs, white cheeses and sauce of blood oranges. There was also a hare's stew that carried wild onions, peppers and something he could not identify; and forward, pumpkin pies, mashed potatoes, quail and crabs, all to be enjoyed with the best Arbor Gold’s crops available in the stocks of the Red Keep. The dessert was simpler: lemon and nut cakes; boiled pears; papaya cream watered with rum, and fermented goat's milk to please his eastern benefactors.  
The king could swear he had never seen so many beautiful women in one place. Arianne was with two cousins whose presence displeased Jon, not for the inferiority of their birth, but for the indiscretion of “libertine practices that could corrupt the virtues of the king”. The fool. Little did he know that Aegon’s honor was already doomed, but not by the Sand Snakes. Lady Nym, Tyene Sand, and finally the Princess of Dorne, who in such a position should stand out among the others, were all laughing together, and oh, how good they looked. Arianne, who was small, dark and voluptuous, wore a red and orange dress; jewels adorned her forehead, arms and black hair. Not far from her, another lovely young lady also seemed to rejoice in the company of her cousins. Margaery Tyrell, Aegon remembered. At the ball the day before this, he had to dance at least three songs with her, for Lord Mace wouldn’t have it any other way. House Tyrell had provided him with its services, food, and some of the best cavalry available; yet, Aegon had little liking for the family. Willas was a good-natured man, he'd assumed. And his sister, Margaery, was an adorable lass with a fresh face, brown curls and doe eyes. She carried in her air a pleasant wit, as well as refinement in her clothing. Her gown was covered with myrish green lace; green, to proudly exalt the colors of her House, and the very expensive lace, to emphasize her fortune in the most restrained manner, as ladies did. He knew that Mace wished Aegon to take Margaery as his wife, and for days the subject matter spread in the Small Council. He did not want to do it, though. He saw Mace as the distrustful craven he was; the siege of Tyrell's army in Storm's End was crucial to the victory of the Usurper in the Trident. Then, believing in the promise of royal prestige, they supported another usurper of the worst kind, the one who is said to lay with men and establish vanity as his claim. Under Renly’s name they vetoed the circulation of food in the streets of King’s Landing, attempting to create a rebellion against Joffrey. Still, they later supported the Lannisters and only retained the resources they have to spared efforts. Pretty as she was, Margaery, the pearl of Reach, was not a suitable queen, he knew.  
Speaking of beauty, there she was, Lady Sansa. Her face was as exquisite as the rumors claimed it to be, and the marble-colored silk of her gown brightened her cheeks and copper hair. He took advantage of the brief solitude the guests gave him and headed toward her.

\- Lady Sansa, - he said, kissing her hand. - Welcome to the Capital. I beg your pardon for not having received you before.

\- Your Grace is very kind. - She replied, bowing.

\- We’re all hoping you had a good trip. If I may ask, my lady, where is your sister? Did not she come with you?

Sansa looked apprehensive.

\- Arya... I... Your Grace, I came by ship, directly from the Vale. My sister had pending matters to settle in Riverrun. She shall be coming soon, but I'm afraid she won’t attend the tournament.

\- Outstanding issues, eh? In this case, I suppose she'll come by the King's Road with more guards, am I right?

\- Yes and no, Your Grace. My sister will not be escorted by guards, but do not fear for her safety. I guarantee she shall arrive well accompanied.

Aegon thought it all very odd. Would it be possible that... no, he should not waste his time listening to folkloric creeds. They said that Arya Stark turned into a monstrous she-wolf and feasted on the flesh of her enemies, and was using such aptitude that she succeeded in defending the people against the Great Evil. Rumors, just silly rumors to scare children.

\- I asked, Lady Sansa, for I usually meet the people I bargain with, and the King's Road is not an invinting place for a girl, especially a high-born one at that. But if you say your sister is protected, I believe in your word. I will not bother you any further, my lady, enjoy the celebration. - He kissed her hand again and left, knowing that Jon would notice his absence.

Pending matters, he repeated. What kind of pending is more important than a royal requirement? Worse, what kind of pendency was limited only to the second daughter of a ruined kingdom? Arya Stark had hardly set a foot in King’s Landing and was already causing agitation. But was not he misjudging her? Gods be good, he still didn’t even know the girl. He lifted the glass of wine to his lips, taking a long sip that burned his throat. There were provisions to take, fights to watch, women to entertain and titles to deliver. This shall be an exhausting event.

~

Gods, was he tired. Could he not bow to the whim of the Iron Throne and claim his rights as a monarch? Why did he have to be available to everyone at any time? Was not the king allowed a little rest? “Ruling is a duty, not a right. Your Grace would do well to remember that.” He heard Jon's voice saying. Only from all the racket did he find time for himself. It was late, almost the hour of the wolf, and Aegon was moving through the woods of the castle in search of peace. It was, indeed, a strange night. The earth seemed to stir in its exuberance; the mist spread as quickly as fire, and suddenly a noisy cat crawled through the bushes. Bats and crows danced across the sky in a macabre spectacle, and he heard nothing but the sounds of his steps and the owl's hooting. Leaving the woods, he found himself in a garden that had long needed care; the statues covered with grass and moss seemed to watch him. There was something moving on the other side of the pond, a spectrum, an apparition. It had a feminine slender form. Aegon could not believe his eyes, it was a woman, a real woman. She undressed from her rags, loosening her dark hair from unkempt braids. Turn around, damn it. He wanted to see her, but the fog got in the way. Has she lost her mind? Any depraved could find her here, and watch her and contemplate the impurities they wanted to do with her. Like you, a voice told him. Those long legs, the white skin, Seven forgive him, he was mesmerized. She went deep into the water, not caring at all about the cold, and dived. Three black swans swam around her when she emerged under the moonlight, so serene; she arched her head and he could see the steam coming from between her lips. Suddenly, he swore he heard the howl of wolves, a large pack of them, in a haunting song that pierced the forest. The girl finally turned around. A beast, he decided, a creature of the night. Her wolf eyes noticing his figure. Seven hells. Was it to late now? He ran, ran from a naked and defenseless woman, ran hating himself for his own cowardice.


	2. Chapter 2

\- His Grace should reconsider Lord Mace's offers. Lady Margaery is young and beautiful, of the highest birth and still a maiden. Think, Your Grace, about the advantage that your reign would have if this union were to be fulfilled. - One of his advisers claimed.

\- A maiden, you say? Do you really expect us to believe that a girl who has gone through three marriages still preserves her virtues? - Answered the maester. - And as I recall, the septa that examined Lady Margaery only confirmed the rumors we heard about her nature.

\- Allow me to disagree with this pernicious gossip, my lord. Tommen was just a green boy, Joffrey had died before he even lay down on the bridal bed, and Renly Baratheon would not touch a woman for all the gold of Lannisport. - All members of the Council laughed, all but Aegon, who seemed lost in thoughts about the woman of the night before. Was it just a dream?

\- While you are discussing the relevance of Margaery Tyrell's innocence, it is my duty to remind you that Dorne endorsed Your Grace's campaign like no other kingdom has. I dare say that in the name of the peace between the dornish folk and the Crown, Your Grace should marry Princess Arianne. - Jon Connington said.

Now a fat-faced man roared with laughter. - If you're questioning Lady Tyrell's purity all this time, we shall certainly stay until next winter talking about Princess Arianne’s. 

That was enough.

\- Carefull, my lord. Don’t forget you’re talking about my cousin. I will not tolerate this kind of insult. - Aegon said sharply.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Do they take me for Robert Baratheon? A king must have prudence and caution. Yes, the same prudence and caution you demonstrated with such vigor as you watched a naked girl bathing.

\- I beg your pardon if I offended you, Your Grace, but with all this tumult at court, all these ladies being offered by their parents, and now, the Stark girl and that pack of wolves..." Aegon choked on the water he was drinking. 

\- Pack of wolves?

\- Yes, Your Grace, at least ten of them. Wild beasts, I tell you. Lady Arya arrived here accompanied only by them. A scandal, if you ask me.

So, was this the protection of Arya Stark during her journey down the King's Road? But how much insolence on her part to suppose that she could keep those creatures in the Red Keep, creatures that... Gods, only now he realized. The girl of yesterday, the howl of the wolves, the ecstasy of it all. Arya Stark. She had seen him, seen him as if she had looked deep into his soul.

\- What shall we do with the beasts, my king?

He hesitated.

\- Leave them in the kennels. Feed them with leftovers, entrails and bones. Make sure that none of them escape.

Everyone seemed shocked by Aegon's decision, but nobody questioned it when they noticed his irritation. Let Arya Stark have her wolves, he thought. Dragons should not be intimidated, and she wasn’t innocent in this story.

\- You commented that the other Lady Stark arrived. That's for the best. Arrange a dinner, let's start looking at the terms of King Brandon.

~

 

Was it silly of him to want to be more than presentable for dinner? He wore the best black leather doublet he could find and a crimson cloak around his shoulders, on his head was the silver rim decorated with rubies, the crown of the Targaryen dynasty. If Lady Arya caused him embarrassment, then it would be good if he were at least dressed properly to face her.  
He took a deep breath and opened the door, then came upon a pair of gray eyes. Mother, have mercy. Those eyes were not made of the fine silverware that the nobility wore in jewels, they were iron. Iron and bronze are said to be the metals of the North; darker, stronger and rudimentary. She had a long angular face, a dark pool that revealed nothing, and the dress was equally gray, which enhanced her gaze. He was staring.

\- Shall we begin, Your Grace? - Jon asked, clearing his throat. 

\- We shall. 

She did not say a word until now, and neither did she look at Aegon. She seemed to analyze all the guests, dissecting their lies, their intentions, their desires. She had the petulance of being late, of harboring monsters in the noblest of castles, and now she didn’t even spare a glance at the king. Why wasn’t she looking at him? Was she embarrassed by yesterday? No, she did not seem embarrassed; in fact, she did not seem to feel anything, as if what had happened had been the simplest thing in the world.

\- The Riverlands have no natural defenses, my lords. It would take at least ten years to recover from the damage that Tywin Lannister's men had caused. - She said for the first time, and so boldly

\- So she does speak. - He said, smiling defiantly. - If my memory doesn’t fail me, Lady Arya, the Neck is the best natural defense the North could have, even more so now with the ships Lord Manderly built to secure the East Coast. 

\- Your Grace mistakes my intentions. It is not with the North that I am worried, it is with the people of the Riverlands, they have suffered enough, and some lords pledged their loyalty to my brother.

\- The people? A lovely thought, I dare say. Tell me, my lady, the smallfolk from a scorched land will support an ever more unified and powerful kingdom, or one with unrecoverable marks of desolation?

She grinned. Gods, she wasn’t affected by his harsh words. Not one bit.

\- True power belongs to those who have the ability to stop the production. Their decision must be considered, of course. It surprises me, however, that some believe that the other Six Kingdoms are united when only one marriage can sentence them to chaos.

Her answer surprised him. It seems you've taken an eager interest in my marital options, he almost said.

\- Your concern for the Six Kingdom's union is touching, I noticed.

\- Oh yes, Your Grace is quite the observant indeed.

Aegon was red all over. How dare she? Couldn’t she be courteous and pleasant like her sister? He hoped Jon would keep changing the subject. He wasn’t going to leave it like that. After what seemed an eternity, the meeting was over.

\- That will be all, my lords, my ladies. I'm looking forward to have some sleep. The wolves are giving me a hard time.

Literally. 

When his bannermen started to leave the room, Aegon found the courage to say:

\- Lady Arya, would you be so kind and stay a little longer? There are some... pendant matters I’d like to discuss with you. About your wolves. 

He was lying. Damn, she knew he was lying, but the others did not. Perhaps Jon knew, or Duck. Well, it didn’t matter now. He closed the door behind him, filled two goblets with wine and handed one to her. 

\- So, what do you think about my Council?

\- You should ask me what your Council thinks about you, Your Grace.

\- Oh, pray tell, my lady. What do they think about me?

\- Lord Raymund still doubts of your birth. Besides, he’s not fond of my wolves. 

Oh, you amusing little thing.

\- For that I can’t blame him. 

\- Can’t you? For centuries your dragons brought fire and blood to Westeros, and yet you praise them.

He didn’t know what to say.

\- I... Is different.

She grinned again that wolfish grin of hers. - Is it? How so, your Grace?

\- Dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power. 

\- You claim to know a lot about power for someone who gets carried away by so little. 

Now she was infuriating him. 

\- Is this about yesterday? Because I was at no fault. If you wanted to bathe, my lady, there are plenty of handmaids that could do the job.

\- Aye, but I happen to enjoy the wild, Your Grace. And I had enough protection.

\- Why? Why wolves? - He asked, genuinely curious.

\- Wolves are better than men. In fact, they are more loyal than half of your supporters. 

She moved towards the door as if to leave.

\- Did I give you permission, Lady Arya? 

She smiled. - Sleep well, my king. 

Now she was gone, and he knew he was a ruined man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for any grammar mistakes. :) I hope you’re enjoying it!


	3. Chapter 3

Aegon woke up in the hour of the nightingale. He stepped out from under the thick covers and walked to the half-open window. The sky was still purple and the air was cold. Among the woods, hares displayed their velvety silhouettes and birds sang their morning songs. The nature seemed so peaceful, but he knew it was not. Somewhere in the forests, wolves fought for a deer's pieces, then they would feed on the poor creature and perhaps the rain would wash the blood from their fur. Yet, he could not help but find beauty in the wildness. What would the Crown Lands look like if there was no Crown? He thought of the Red Keep, the sumptuous halls, the fine furniture, the huge tapestries, the balls, the lies and Arbor Gold.

"...but I happen to enjoy the wild, Your Grace."

Suddenly Aegon remembered the tournament and the women who attended. They were all elegantly attired, wearing fake fragrances and fake smiles on their faces. Everything in King's Landing was fake. At the end of the day, those poor girls served as means to satisfy the ambition of their families. Arya, however...  
The first time he saw her, she was not wearing silks or lace or jewels. She was dirty, her robes covered in mud, and then she was bare as her name day. That was truth. If nature is the antithesis of civility, then Arya is nature personified. Civility is full of lies disguised as courtesies; while nature is raw and real. Arya was a winter storm, she was the earth between bare feet and was the salty water of the seas, she was the ancient and nameless gods of the North. She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire.

Jon had realized as quickly as he had disapproved. "That Stark girl, yes, the youngest. I saw the way you look at her and I'm warning you, it won’t do you any good. It turns out she looks a lot like her aunt Lyanna, and so much that they could pass as the same person."

Jon's words hurt his soul. Lyanna Stark, the woman for whom Rhaegar had dishonored Elia of Dorne. His poor mother. They all said she was a sweet woman. Why would his father do such thing? No, he should not think of Arya. She would turn him away from his duties, it would be another disgrace to the people of Dorne. By Gods, what would the dornish think of that? In their eyes, the Starks were also guilty for the Sack of King’s Landing, and the North never supported his campaign like Dorne did. Now they were all expecting him to marry Arianne.  
He wasn’t stupid, he knew full well that Arianne was attracted to him and that her desires went beyond family’s expectations. Once they even kissed when he drank too much wine, but he knew better. She was a beautiful woman and Aegon was fond of her, yet he could not see himself loving her. Did Rhaegar love Elia? Why did Aegon want Arya? They barely knew each other, for heaven's sake. He decided to ignore her, it could not be so difficult.

~

He was wrong. Again.

That afternoon, Aegon saw her practicing alone. The blade of her sword was long and slender as they are in the Free Cities. She whirled and cut through the air in the most graceful sight he had ever beheld. It wasn’t the graciousness of the ladies who danced with lords and knights at a royal ball, it was a lethal kind of grace.

\- Are you in need of a partner, my lady? - He found himself asking as if genuinely inviting her to dance.

\- How kind of you, Your Grace. - She answered raising her training sword.

The metals collided and then they were fighting. Initially, he thought of giving her some advantage, but she overcame him with such mastery that made him fight like he did in combat against a foe, a respectable foe. She was left-handed, which made Aegon's movements more awkward. Every time he tried to strike her, she dodged, becoming an impossible target. After much time of persuasion, they were both with their swords on each other's throats, laughing. Arya threw the blade to the ground and lay down on the straw; Aegon did the same, falling on her side. Both were exhausted, panting, hands shaking. When he saw the sweat trickling down her neck, he felt the urge to lick it clean. When was the last time he had so much fun fighting with swords? When was the last time he had fun? Arya lying next to him, looking up, her face all red, her hair wild, her breath fastening. Just the mere suggestion of what it looked like they were doing was enough to arouse him.

\- You're good. You're very good. - He said, closing his eyes.

\- You’re not so bad yourself, Your Grace.

\- Aegon. Call me Aegon.

\- Aegon, then.

He shivered when his name left her lips.

\- That thing you do with the wolves... They bend to your will. How do you do it?

\- You will not believe it if I tell you.

\- Try me.

She smiled.

\- When I was eight, my father and brothers found six wolf pups in the snow. One for each of the Stark children and... - She took a deep breath.

\- And Jon. - He finished. Aegon never met his half-brother, who after the Great War returned to live in Winterfell abdicating his position as King in the North.

\- Yes, and Jon. My father claimed that the old gods sent them. Nymeria and I were separated for a while, but every night I dreamed of her, dreamed that I was her. I would run through the woods with a giant pack and taste the blood in my mouth. She was bigger, stronger, fearless, and the other wolves submitted to her. They would never leave her, but Nymeria is me, she’s part of my soul, so they are my pack.

Aegon was fascinated. All his life he believed that the wargs were mere mystical creatures invented to delight children in lullabies.

\- And all of your siblings can do that? Do you have this power over other animals?

\- Well... I don’t know about Robb, but Sansa can not, sadly her wolf died very early. Jon and Rickon can, but only with wolves. I can do with cats, but Bran is special. He is a greenseer, they say that the best greenseers had the ability to possess any creature, from those who lived in the depths of the ocean to those flying high in the sky.

\- Any creature? Even dragons?

\- Probably.

\- And how is he like?

\- Who? Bran?

\- Jon.

Was it wise of him to ask this?

\- He is... the best man that exists. Brave and strong and so kind to me. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister". Jon has always been my favorite. Sansa, Bran, Robb and even little Rickon looked like my mother. The lovely Tully look, she used to say. But Jon was all Stark. One could see in his eyes, his hair, his face, my mother was bitter because none of her sons looked like father. 

Her eyes sparkled as she spoke of Jon Snow. Was she in love with him? He felt a pang of jealousy within.

\- Do you still see him as a brother? - He needed to know.

\- Yes. I always will.

Good, he thought.

\- And your other siblings? How are they like? 

Now she looked more sad than contemplative. 

\- You’ve met Sansa. She was always beautiful and eager to please, everybody said so. Her needlework is impecable, and she can play the harp and sing so sweetly. Mother always wanted me to be like her. 

I’m glad you aren’t, though. 

\- Bran was my mother’s dearest. He was stubborn, curious and could climb as good as a squirrel. I mean, before he was pushed... Now he’s not so vibrant, but he’s still a good king. And righteous. Little Rickon, the youngest, is a wild one. 

\- Just like you?

She laughed. 

\- Yes, just like me. 

There was another. Robb Stark, he recalled. They called him The Young Wolf. Arya didn’t speak of him, and Aegon wouldn’t dare ask. 

\- I wished I knew my family. There’s only Arianne and Trystaine left, but I never met him.

\- Don’t you have an aunt in Meereen? The so called “Breaker of Chains”?

\- Oh yes, I do indeed. - He said, smiling. 

\- Do you like her? 

\- Very much. Only I wish we could spend more time together. You remind me of her, even if you look nothing alike. 

\- Do I? 

\- Definitely. You both have a strong sense of justice and are stubborn and full of surprises, my lady.

\- Arya. Call me Arya.

\- Arya, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote “She’s mad but she’s magic (..)” is from Charles Bukowski.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. If you can, please leave comments and suggestions! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Another meeting at the Small Council and another sleepless night.

\- The Reach is in need of more ships. Since the Redwyne’s fleet was sacrificed in battle against the Greyjoys, the southwestern region of the kingdom is lacking naval defense. - Said Ser Owen.

This is so tedious. I wish Arya was here.

\- That is not a priority, Ser. But fear not, His Grace will send you the needed resources. I must say that our main concern is the North. - Answered Jon.

\- And how is the North our greatest concern? - I thought everything was settled. - Duck said. 

\- Now is the moment to form alliances that will avoid disagreements, and there’s nothing like a marriage to seal royal alliances. 

Aegon’s eyes widened. No, he couldn’t mean that. 

\- Lady Sansa and Lady Arya shall marry His Grace’s bannermen.

The king was breathing fire.

\- No! - He shouted furiously. Jon was doing it on purpose. He knew Aegon liked Arya, he knew he wanted her the way a man wants a woman. Now he was trying to take her away from him. Well, he wouldn’t. 

All the counselors looked at him with scared expressions on their faces.

\- What I meant was... wouldn’t be wiser to let the ladies choose their husbands? We can not force them into an arranged marriage considering I'm not their king. Brandon Stark must decide who they shall marry or not.

\- But... Your Grace...

\- My word is final, Jon. 

 

~

He was going mad, there was no other explanation. The genes of his family surfaced in it’s most decadent form. Arya Stark was just a girl, wasn’t she?

Wasn’t she? 

Throughout his life, Aegon was trained to serve. Serve the Realm, serve the people, serve the interests of the Crown, but never himself. Valar Dohaeris. The people loved him, and he could easily charm his highborn allies. Now, it seemed like there were three people living inside him, three heads of the dragon. How convenient. Part of him wanted her; it was the primal, carnal and possessive beast inside his chest, he wanted to tease her, he wanted to have her, even own her; it was fire and blood. The other part was the dutiful monarch, the kingly man who would please the nobility and rule wisely. And the third part... the third part wanted to woo her, to get to know her better, to see her smiling, to hear her voice. Somehow, this last part scared him the most. How could he balance all these feelings? The way she bit her lip...

\- You look troubled, dear cousin. - Arianne said from behind him. The gods know what she must have done to persuade the guards of Aegon's quarters.

\- Good evening, Arianne. 

\- I heard the king was feeling... indisposed today. May I ask why? 

He took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her company, but Arianne always had other things in mind. 

\- Sometimes a man gets tired of so many obligations.

His cousin lighted some candles and closed the curtains.

\- Then let me relieve your tension. - She answered maliciously, holding Aegon's hand and pulling him to sit next to her. She offered him a goblet of red wine sweetened with honey and he accepted. 

\- I’ve been hearing the most dreadful rumors. 

Here we go.

\- Now have you? 

\- Oh yes, I heard that Aegon Targaryen has been acting strangely. Some even say he fell in love. 

\- Well, you shouldn’t listen to filth.

\- That I shouldn’t. Besides, I’m sure they are terribly mistaken. - Now she approached him and started to unlace the knots of his jerkin. 

\- What are you doing? - He questioned but didn’t try to stop her. Could Arianne get Arya out of his thoughts?

\- What does it look like I’m doing? - She took off his jerkin and began to press kisses all over his naked chest. 

It doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel any good. 

\- Stop. - He pleaded, but she didn’t listen to him. Then she kissed down his stomach. - Stop now, Arianne. 

She loosened her curly hair and lowered the loops of her dress to better expose that dark skin. - Are you sure?

\- Yes, I’m sure. 

Now she was the one looking troubled. 

\- Who is she?

\- Arianne, I don’t think... 

\- Lady Tyrell, I bet. Maybe one of the Sand Snakes? Elia always liked handsome men. Or perhaps is the pretty Sansa Stark or her wild she-wolf of a sister? 

He cleared his throat. 

\- Oh gods, it’s her, is it not? That’s why you’ve been avoiding everybody all day long. 

\- Arianne, for the love you have for me as your cousin, please do not tell anyone.

\- I won’t. You know, I also could not marry without a concubine or two.

\- Don’t say that. I would not dishonor her that way.

\- So you intend to take her as your wife?

\- I...

She laughed with her eyes.

\- You should rest, Your Grace.- Arianne said, kissing his cheek affectionately and leaving the room. 

~ 

Fuck it. He wanted to do something willful, something daring. He wanted to know how if felt not to be king.  
That night, he returned alone to the abandoned garden where he first saw Arya. It wasn’t that late, though. The hour of the ghosts, people called it. At that very moment he was a ghost, white and silent. The calm waters looked the same, so he undressed and dived in the depths of the lake. He swam in rivers and lakes before, but he did so by being on the agenda of the perfect king, and not for pleasure. In the morning he would be king, but now he would be Aegon.

~

 

He knew he would find her here in the dark hallways, admiring the relics of his family. And she knew he was right behind her, without even turning around.

\- What is this? - She asked, looking at huge horn covered with runes, valyrian steel and redish gold. 

\- This is the... 

\- Dragonbinder. - Arya interrupted.

Now he was amazed. 

\- I didn’t know you could speak high valyrian. 

\- I do speak some languages. - She said in a perfect braavosi. 

\- Lyseni, perhaps? 

\- Yes, Your Grace.

He wasn’t expecting it. 

\- I believed I told you to call me Aegon. 

She rolled her eyes. - Yes, Aegon, I can speak the tongues of Lys and Pentos. 

\- Impressive, truly. 

Everything about her is impressive. 

\- So, what exactly is the Dragonbinder? 

He came closer than he should, but it was to late. Aegon couldn’t help but touch her, so he hugged her from behind and rested his head on her shoulder. Arya didn’t pull away. 

\- The Dragonbinder was brought by Euron Greyjoy before he was defeated. He claims to have sailed the Smoking Sea and found it amongst the ruins of Old Valyria. But it was actually brought from Qarth. Euron took it from four warlocks whose ship he seized when they went in search of Daenerys after the destruction of their House of the Undying. The horn's noise is said to sound like the scream of a thousand souls and it seems to listeners as if their very bones are aflame and searing their flesh from within.

He hugged her tighter now, refusing to acknowledge the growing feeling inside his pants. 

\- “No mortal man shall sound me and live... Blood for fire, fire for blood." - She read aloud the runic words. - If those who blow the horn die, then how can they control a dragon?

\- Whoever blows the horn will die but any dragon that hear will obey the horn's master.

\- Oh. 

The pale skin of her neck looked so delicious, and she smelled so damn good. Aegon felt her shivering in his arms and couldn’t take it anymore. 

\- It must be glorious to ride a dragon.

Well, wasn’t that suggestive.

\- Yes. - He whispered. - I can show you how glorious it feels.

He pressed a kiss behind her ear and she abruptly pulled away from his embrace. 

Oh no, what have I done? 

\- Arya, I... 

\- Did you enjoy your bath, my king? 

Did I...

\- Were you spying on me? 

She bit her lip again and smiled. 

\- I didn’t have to.

Damn her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya’s POV y’all
> 
> Sorry for the grammar mistakes and I hope you guys keep in touch. ;)

She wasn’t stupid as to deny that the man was handsome with those purple eyes, long lashes, perfect jaw and silver hair. In fact, Aegon was probably the handsomest man she'd ever met.

In a less cruel world Sansa would have fallen in love with him for sure. 

It was never Arya's intention to catch the king's gaze. She arrived at the Red Keep at night during the tournament but refused to attend. 

Tournaments are just stupid excuses to bring the nobility together in their petty plans. 

Besides, she was filthy. All that time on the road, surrounded by wolves and sleeping in the woods did not make her presentable, so she decided to bathe before announcing her arrival. Arya didn’t think anyone would find her there, especially at that hour.  
She was familiar with that look, for men already looked at her with lust. At first, she found it amusing, but now it was worrying, especially after that dream where Aegon entered her chambers and...

Gods.

She rarely trusted someone, but now, after all her learning in Braavos, she knew who she could and could not trust. When Arya looked at Aegon, she didn’t see the descriptions of the oh so perfect king. She saw a lost boy, even if he was older than her, even if he was older than Jon. It does not matter what he’s been through, since deep inside he knew he was always protected. Even so, they were very alike, so much so that she had never created such a strong connection in such a short period of time.

But that was stupid. Aegon is not her pack, he has a kingdom to rule, and his honeyed tongue and silly poems were just... well, stupid. 

Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about his arms around her, the shiver she felt, his lips touching her skin. Arya had not felt anything like that since... since Gendry. The thought made her laugh, though. While Gendry was muscular, dark and brute, Aegon was lean, fair and soft. 

Gendry wasn’t Arya's pack either, she knew. She knew when he left her for the Brotherhood and she knew when they met again. He didn’t have to say anything, and she’d never beg. Gendry would sooner marry one of the Heddle sisters and have several children and spend the rest of his life hammering swords than going to Winterfell with her. She would always be "m'lady" in his eyes, and she would never be a lady in the eyes of her family. No matter what, Arya never seemed to fit. 

Only Jon loves me for me.

Why did everything have to be so difficult? It was still difficult even after she had recovered his helm. The bullheaded helm Dunsen had stolen at Harrenhal. The man was unlucky enough to cross paths with her, so she took the bloody helm and handed it back to it’s owner. Gendry's blue eyes brightened that day in a way she had never seen, but when Arya decided to leave he didn’t try to stop her, even if he was feeling miserable. She missed him, she really did. It doesn’t matter now, for Gendry would always refuse her. 

Aegon, however...

Would he refuse her?

The big difference between him and Arya is that he still vigorously follows the expectations that others have imposed him since his childhood, and only now did he seem to change his perspective.

He is so easy to read, this king. 

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he be gentle or aggressive? 

No, she should not think about it. Aegon is a king and is very soon to be married; she is Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the North, so she must stay in the North. 

 

~

 

After the audience, they decided to arrange a small ball. Arya hated to dance any dance other than the water dance, but if she did not, she would attract even more unwanted attention, so she accepted the invitation from Brandon Tallhart, her bannerman.

\- Is the southern scum bothering you, my lady? All you have to do is tell me and let me have my way with them.

Arya laughed as he placed his hand on her waist.

He is a charming man.

\- It won’t be necessary, my lord. But I guarantee that if one of them tries to say anything, I’ll shut them up myself.

He smiled.

\- If I were you, I'd be more worried about the king.

She raised an eyebrow.

\- Why so, my lord?

\- Because he's coming here with fire in his eyes.

And he really was. 

\- My lady, - he said, approaching her through the crowd - may I have this dance?

The king looked radiant, always in red and black, but now, angered, he was a true Targaryen.

She turned around to face Brandon and said:

\- My lord, I'm afraid my sister is in need of a northern company. - She nodded towards Sansa across the room.

Her poor charming bannerman bowed. 

\- As you wish, Lady Arya. - Then he was gone. 

Aegon held her against his body with more strength than he had intented.

\- That was not kingly. - She said.

\- I'm sure he'll forgive you.

She's just as angry as Aegon. He had no right to tell her who to dance with.

Stupid, stupid, a thousand times stupid, she thought. 

\- I do not like to see you in the arms of other men, Arya.

\- And what does Your Grace intend to do? Lock me in a tower?

She knew how to embarrass him.

\- I... No. I just...

\- You just what, Aegon?

\- I just want you all for myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, no hate on Gendry. Poor boy got some class issues but didn’t actually refuse Arya, that’s just her opinion. Fics usually tend to portray one guy as nice and the other as a jerk to simplify things, but just like Aegon, Gendry has light and darkness within. The thing I hate the most in Arya/Aegon/Gendry fics is when they try to make Gendry fall for Sansa. I just can’t.


	6. Chapter 6

\- I just want you all for myself. 

There. He said it. Was that selfish? Maybe, but was the truth. He tried, he actually tried, but seeing Arya smiling and laughing in the arms of another man aroused in Aegon an uncontrollable fury that Jon calls "waking the dragon."

It passed through the king's mind sending Brandon Tallhart back to the North, but Arya would know and wouldn’t like it at all.

\- Aegon... - she said, - this is madness! You treat me like I'm your wife, your queen, and I'm not, nor will I be. 

His heart seemed to sink at that moment into a mixture of sadness and anger.

\- Why not?

She looked at him with sad gray eyes.

\- My place is in the North, in Winterfell, with my pack, with my brothers. King's Landing still stinks, stinks of blood, stinks of lies.

He knew where she was going. She saw her father die in front of the Red Keep. Yet Aegon could not ignore his anger.

\- So you plan to leave me? - He asked like a spoiled little boy whose parents just took off the sweets from his hands. 

\- It's not like that! - She snapped.

Afraid to draw more attention, Aegon pulled her close so that he could whisper in her ear.

\- And how is it like, then? - He asked.

\- I will not marry. Ever. 

Oddly, those words brought Aegon a certain kind of relief.

If Arya doesn’t marry me, she won’t marry anyone.

\- Your Grace, - Varys said from behind him.

Aegon swore that if people continued to interrupt, he would ignite them one by one.

\- What is it now, Varys? 

\- Lord Mace insists that Your Grace dance the last song with Lady Margaery. 

He forced himself not to roll his eyes.

The Spider also doesn’t want me to choose Arya.

\- Varys, can’t he see I'm busy with... - when Aegon looked back, Arya was no longer there.

 

~

 

He danced. He danced with Margaery and each one of her cousins. Mace couldn’t demand more of him now. Hells, Mace couldn’t demand anything from him to begin with. Aegon was king, king! Couldn’t anyone understand that? He was not the Spider’s puppet, he was not Jon Connington's path to personal redemption, and he was definitely not the guarantee of Illyrio Mopatis's wealth.

A king can do whatever he wants.

He went to the table and asked the scribe for a quill, a piece of parchment and some ink to send Arya a message that wouldn’t be seen by Varys or his little birds.  
When Aegon looked around the queen's ballroom, he didn’t find Arya.

She must have retired already.

Lady Sansa, however, was still there. The poor woman must be ashamed of her sister's behavior. The thought amused him.

\- Lady Sansa, how are you? - He asked, approaching her.

\- Very well, Your Grace, and how are you tonight?

\- Annoyed, but I shall not disturb you with my problems. Tell me, my lady, would you do me a favor?

She seemed confused. 

\- What favor, my king?

Aegon brought Sansa's hand to his lips as if to kiss it, but instead he placed the folded parchment in her palm and closed it with her fingers. 

\- Give it to your sister. 

 

~

 

\- So what did he want? - Sansa asked.

\- He said there's a passage hidden in the fireplace in our chambers. 

\- Arya, you're not in love with him, are you? We do not need another scandal.

She bit her lip and replied - no, Sansa. We'll soon be back to Winterfell, and I'm sure his feelings for me are momentary. They always are.

This made her think of Gendry, but she shoved the thought away.

\- And what do you intend to do?

\- I'll see what he wants.

\- You know very well what he wants.

\- You are wrong.

When Arya looked into Aegon's eyes, there was something beyond lust, something tender, full of adoration. He would not hurt her, at least not on purpose, and if the stupid tried something, well...

\- Go on, and tell me what happened next. But be careful.

Sansa said, smiling.

\- I will.

 

~

 

The passageway was narrow, dark, and dusty.

Probably the spies do not come here often.

The place reminded her of the cold crypts of Winterfell, except that the corridors were not so cold.

\- I thought you wouldn’t come. - Aegon said as he held a torch.

Gods, those eyes were purple amethysts that melted her insides, looking at her as if memorizing her face strait into her soul, as if he had known her whole life.  
Time stood still as she watched the fire light focus on his face. At first she thought he was handsome but at close examination she decided handsome wasn't good enough. 

\- What do you want? - She found the courage to ask.

\- I want to show you something. Come and stay behind me every moment.

She obeyed him, but she could not let go of her curiosity.

\- Where are we going?

All this seemed so secret and dangerous, but at the same time welcoming. It was like stealing lemon cakes from the kitchens in the dead of night.

\- It's a surprise.

The tunnel seemed endless, and the dirty and cracked mirrors on the stony walls were scary. A little further on was a staircase. They descended carefully and stopped in a chamber with a locked door. Aegon took a silver key out of his pocket and turned it three times in the lock. When he pushed the heavy iron door Arya didn’t believe her eyes.  
Inside the gigantic moat with a round roof that led to the starry sky, a dragon slept. He was white and huge and terrible and magnificent.

She always wanted to see a dragon.

\- This is Viserion. The other two, Rhaegal and Drogon, are with my aunt in Meereen.

She was mesmerized. 

\- He... he is so beautiful.

The creature woke up and looked at them curiously, but Arya saw no hostility.

\- Would you like to...? - He asked, holding both her hands.

Yes!

\- Could I? Isn’t it dangerous?

\- Not if you're with me. Daenerys never rode Viserion, for she’s bonded especially with Drogon. As for me... They can only have one rider. Once the dragon and the rider have bonded, that dragon won’t allow anyone else to mount it while its rider lives. They are, however, willing to accept another person upon their backs when their own rider has mounted as well. 

Aegon took the heavy fetters from Viserion’s hind legs and positioned himself on his back, reaching out to help Arya up.

\- He doesn’t like the chains. - She said, noting the creature's distress. 

\- No, - Aegon agreed - but Jon insisted. Viserion is frustrated by being away from his mother and brothers, and locked and lonely. I visit him whenever I can. 

This only increased Arya's admiration for him. Maybe, just a little bit, she was falling for him.

\- Vlah. - He proclaimed in high Valyrian. The pale wings parted as Arya clung to Aegon, hugging him from behind. 

Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself. 

Even so, she did not hesitate to close her eyes until Viserion crossed the celestial vaults and the cold sensation inside her stomach ceased. 

\- Open your eyes, my love. 

He was so insolent. 

\- I’m not...

\- Yes, you are. - He interrupted. 

Before she could repress Aegon properly, Arya opened her eyes and saw the Keep from above, she saw the streets of King's Landing and hills and lakes. The wind blew in her hair and the moonlight illuminated her face. Arya rested her chin on his shoulder and never felt so alive. Life had been unkind to her, but at that moment she felt in one of the stupid songs Sansa loved so dearly. There, under the stars and with Aegon in her arms, she was sure she had fallen for him. 

This wasn’t good, though, but she would think about it in the morning. Now her senses seemed to be numb. 

The sensation of flying was unbelievable, and it's such a miraculous notion to go into the air and see the world without delineation.

\- Is glorious, isn’t it? - Aegon asked. 

They stood in the sky for ten minutes, then Viserion began to land gracefully in the pit. 

Her hands were shaking and her heart was racing.

\- That was... 

Aegon roared into laughter. 

-What is it, stupid?

\- Your hair is all messed up. 

Arya blushed and began to run her fingers through the knots of her brown locks. 

\- It's lovely. - He said, reaching to put a strand of hair behind her ear. 

\- It is not! 

It couldn’t be. Her mother always complained that her hair looked like a bird's nest.

Aegon only smiled and stroked Viserion’s face. The dragon gladly accepted his touch as if they were old friends. 

Like me and Nymeria, she thought.

\- That's the worst part, - the king said, - to chain him. He... he won’t fly away but Jon insists he will. The chains hurt his feet. 

So they do. One could see the red marks that healed on the dragon's white scales. Aegon noticed, too, and looked sad about it. Seeing him sad made her feel sad. 

\- A dragon is not a slave. - She spoke in high valyrian. 

Aegon looked at her with affection, anxiety and doubt. His pretty lilac eyes turned black. They were standing so close, Arya could even smell the sweet wine on his breath and wondered how would it taste like. 

\- Kiss me. - He whispered. 

He then cupped her face and brought his lips to hers and she didn’t try to push him away. She didn’t want to. Not just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Sorry for the late update, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Don’t forget to review and leave suggestions! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize for the lack of interaction between Aegon and Arya in this particular chapter that is about her return to Westeros. I hope you guys like it and again, sorry for any grammar mistakes!

I'm stupid, Arya thought.

How in Seven Hells could she let that happen? That shouldn’t have happened. She was not in love, it was just the pressure of the wind inside her head. After all she did, she was not worthy of love, especially Aegon’s love. He was just a green boy, as her brothers once were before the war.

My wounds are deeper than his desires.

Aegon would never know grief the way she did.

She remembered when she left Braavos. She had already been expelled from the House of Black and White for killing Raff, then went to live as one of the Merling Queen's handmaids, who recruited newly flowered girls to serve her.

\- _And what is your name, my dear? -_

_Lya. - She answered. - She hadn’t given much thought to a new name, perhaps she had chosen this one because of her father's sister._

_\- Well, Lya, you have very singular eyes. A beautiful shade of dark gray not very common around here; long, graceful legs, and lovely white teeth, I dare say. But you’ll surely have to fix those hands and let your hair grow._

_Arya, no, Lya knew her hands were calloused. They were the result of years of hard work. As for hair, the Merling Queen’s mermaids liked it long, so they sanded Lya's hands until they were peach-soft, and then applied sweet oils on her head to make her hair grow fast._

 

_Lya did several things. Some days she was on the boat to pick up the most varied beauty products from lyseni apothecaries, on other days she bought fabrics from myrish merchants, but the nights were only to take care of the Merling Queen and practice her water dance alone. On one particular night, when Lya graced the courtesan's long blond hair with pearls, something seemed to have captivated the woman’s interest._

 

_\- Careful with the pearls, dearie. They were a gift from the Sealord._

_\- Yes, my lady. - Braiding her hair was harder than making a sailor’s knot._

_\- I was told that you flowered when winter came. Is that true? - Lya was taken aback. The Merling Queen almost never addressed her, and she knew she should not talk to a courtesan unless she had spoken to you first._

_\- Yes, my lady. It is true. - She replied, finishing the shiny braids of gold. She was so beautiful, with her blue eyes and rosy lips._

_\- That reminds me of a man from my past. When I was little older than you, three men argued for my purity. The first was a merchant from Tyrosh, and everything in him shone. He offered me my own weight in jewelry for one night with him. The second, Derkko, was a local and famous pirate. He offered me the most beautiful ship in existence, her name was Justinian. The sails were huge and red, and on the prow was a mermaid, like myself. The last was a mere fisherman from Westeros, who brought me a blue rose. Can you imagine? Did the man believe he could have me in exchange for a simple flower? I had never seen such a flower, though; she was magnificent, thorny and had the color of frost. He then told me that blue roses bloom only in winter, and there is nothing of such beauty or rarity, so I presented him with my maidenhead. He smelled like fish, but it was a fair trade, don’t you agree? If your flower is a winter flower, sweetling, then you are special._

 

_Sansa would love this story. It wasn’t a fair trade, and she was neither special nor beautiful. When she was Arya Stark everyone in Winterfell called her horseface. She could not be pretty, but now she wasn’t Arya, she was Lya, and for Lya there was some appeal in the blue roses._

 

_~_

 

_When she came back with the oils and fragrances the next morning, Laurell, one of the mermaids, was singing._

 

_\- Come on you pretty fair maids_

_Whoever you may be_

_Who love a jolly sailor_

_That plows the raging sea_

_While up aloft in storm_

_From me his absence mourn_

_And firmly pray for the day_

_It's never more to roam_

 

_Most of them had a captivating voice. Often men paid not for their bodies, but only to hear them sing. Today it was different. There was a certain stirring among the girls, and Lya did not know why._

_-What is going on? - She asked her colleague._

_\- Why, you do not know? The Uncloaking is coming! Pretty men from all parts of the known world will come here! - She answered and sang again. -_

_His hair it hangs in ringlets_

_His eyes are black as coal_

_My happiness attend him_

_Wherever he may go_

 

_Lya knew the ceremony. Kindly Man had talked about it. Uthero Zalyne dispatched envoys of the Iron Bank to Valyria to pay settlements to the grandchildren of the owners of the ship braavosi founders had seized but not the value of the escaped slaves. He has been sent to invite people from all over the world to celebrate the 111th anniversary of the city's founding in a ten day festival of masks. In the midnight of the tenth day, the Titan roars and all celebrants remove their masks as one. She had to pretend to have attended the parties, after all, Lya had been born in Braavos._

_\- We’ll order masks from the best craftsman in the city. Is not that wonderful?_

_\- Yes. Oh, yes._

 

~

 

Arya thought of the last day of the Unmasking, the day she sailed back to Westeros. She heard about Jon, about his death and resurrection. First she thought it was a lie, until she came across with Jeyne Poole. She was miserable, without half of her nose, and with huge circles under her eyes. This didn’t surprise Arya if the rumors she heard about Ramsay Bolton were true. She was used to impersonating other people, but it was so strange to see another person passing by her. Jeyne was accompanied by Justin Massey, a knight of Stannis Baratheon sent to hire sellsords for his army. Arya never thought to reveal herself, cause she knew that if she did, Jeyne would be lost. Who would care for the steward’s daughter? She remembered Jon saying that life was not fair.

That night she gathered all the silver stags she had, picked up Needle and said goodbye to Lya. She’d miss the girls and the Merling Queen and everything. But she wanted Jon's killers to pay for what they did. The Royne's Revenge was the ship's name. Even the crew were masked, and Braavos looked breathtaking from afar. The costumed folk crowded the streets in their colorful ecstasy, the yellow moon and starry sky lit the waters of the canals. There were drinks of all kinds, and artists and mummers. The security was reinforced as thieves took advantage of the revelry to steal. Some masks were made of leather, porcelain or even glass, and are hand-painted using natural feathers and gems to decorate. Some were colored, others were plain white; some covered the whole face, others covered half to allow the celebrants to eat and drink without removing them. Midnight was approaching, and the songs and jokes were everywhere. As the countdown began, she realized what Braavos was: a city of masks and secrets and fogs. It was a personality itself.

 

10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

The people shouted along with the Titan and unmasked in union. Thousands of faces, thousands of smiles. She took off her mask as well, a black and white one.

\- And what is your name, my fair maid? - Asked the captain who would sail to Saltpans, the same place where she had embarked on Titan's Daughter. But this time she wouldn’t go as Salty or Arry or Nan or Blind Beth or Cat or Mercy.

\- Arya. My name is Arya.

And that's how she came back to Westeros, but that was before thinking about the consequences of being Arya Stark. As soon as she arrived at Saltpans, she did not know what to do. She had no more silver, no friends, no connections. Oh, the Riverlands were devastated. She spent days feeding on acorn paste, apples, and pine bark, since wolf dreams did not fill her belly, not really. The water in the rivers tasted like war. She tried to head North, but how would she do that? The King's Road was surrounded by bandits. Once she found a small group of Frey soldiers camping. Next to the steaming wood was a helm. She knew that helm. It was Gendry's helm, the gleaming and fierce face of a bull. The last time she saw it, Polliver had it, but not when the Hound killed him. She supposed Dunsen got it back, so she retrieved the helm and killed Dunsen. One name less. He deserved it. Since she had given up the roads, there were the forests... she could go through the woods, but she wouldn’t cross the Neck through them. That was impossible. The place was surrounded by lizard-lions, quicksand and swamps. The only way to get there besides the road is by ship, but there were no ships to Eastwatch or White Harbor. She was lost, or so she thought. It didn’t take long to someone take her as a prisoner, but whoever found her was not any man. Even after years, she had recognized him, it was Lem Lemcloak. He had kidnapped her with such happiness that he looked like a mountain lion as he caught a prey. All her triumphant return to become a prisoner of the Brotherhood once again. As if all that humiliating situation wasn’t enough, she had to face them again. Thoros and Harwin and Gendry. He was taller, stronger, more manly. Black hair grew on his chest and his beard was no longer a youthful shadow. The blue eyes were the same, though.

\- I found her, I found her! By the Lord of Light, I found her! - Lem shouted. Arya wanted to stick him with the pointy end, but he was clever. Lem knew her, hells, once she even broke his nose. She would cheerfully break it again if he asked nicely. Instead, he tied her up and brought her to the Inn like a dog.

There were many people there. Most of them were children. Everyone looked at her, but the only look that mattered was Gendry's. First came the shock, then sorrow, then contemplation, and finally remorse.

\- Let her go, Lem. - Gendry said.

\- Let her go, you say? She'll try to run away! - He was partly right. But if she ran away, she would have nowhere to go

\- I will not run away.

Lem made the face, but he took a knife from his pocket and cut off the rope that bound her hands, as sore as Viserion's feet. Noticing the red marks on her wrists, Gendry ran to help her. Once he said her hands were soft little things while Septa Mordane claimed she had blacksmith's hands.

\- I did not ask for help. - She said sharply, but Gendry was stubborn. /p>

\- Come with me. - He spoke, gently pulling her toward an empty room.

He lit up a candle and picked up a damp cloth to wipe her wounds, which burned from the contact with the warm water.

\- Arya... I... Where have you been? I was told you were married to the bastard of Bolton. Please tell me it's not true. I need to hear from you...

He was shaking and sweating. For a moment she felt sorry for him, but then she remembered that he had no right to say that since he left her as soon as he could.

\- Why do you care? - He clenched his fists. Arya knew he was struggling not to get angry or even more frustrated.

\- Do not do that... actually, do it. Hate me if you must, but please tell me that you did not marry him.

She couldn’t hate him, but she did not love him either.

\- I didn’t marry him. That was the steward’s daughter. I was in Braavos serving as a lady's haindmaid. He looked extremely relieved.

\- I have something that belongs to you. - Gendry raised his thick eyebrows as if asking a question without words. She opened the bag Lem had seized from her and pulled out the bull's helm. He seemed almost as surprised as when he looked at Arya after all those years.

\- This...

\- Is yours. - She broke off and left the room, no longer able to look at his face.

\- There you are, m'lady. - Thoros said. The girls are preparing a bath for you. Tomorrow we have much to talk about. The Lady wants to see you.

\- The Lady?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote some things that I honestly believe will happen in the books:
> 
> Arya flowering in winter, as GRRM said
> 
> Arya leaving Braavos at the Unmasking. Is just poetic. 
> 
> Arya meeting Lady Stoneheart. Martin said he’ll visit Arya and Gendry’s relationship again, so...
> 
> Also, the song Laurell was singing is called Jolly Sailor Bold from Pirates of the Caribbean.
> 
> Reviews would be great!


	8. Chapter 8

He was grinning like an idiot and tracing his lips remembering the night before. He kissed her and she kissed him back. It was a sweet, brief kiss, and Aegon wanted more, so much more. He wanted to touch her, wanted to feel the warmth of her skin under his fingers, he wanted to kiss every inch of her body.

But did she want him? Wasn’t he being too hasty? There was something about Arya he didn’t know how to decipher, for she knew how to hide her emotions, but he felt sadness in her, and loneliness and abandonment.

Oh, Arya, if only I could heal your wounds...

I'd kiss your sorrow away.

She said she would soon be returning to the North.

No, Aegon would not allow it. He needed to do something to keep her close to him, but what would please her? She’d not be bought with silks or jewels. That wouldn’t increase her stay at King's Landing.

 

Suddenly, he had an idea.

 

~

 

\- Forgive me, Your Grace, I do not think I have heard correctly. You did what? - Jon Connington yelled.

\- You heard it right. I invited my brother to the Capital. Is there something wrong in that? I've never met him and I have few relatives. You are the King's Hand, my most trusted advisor, Jon. You're like the father I never had. Please try to understand.

He knew Jon was reconsidering. He was a good man who only wanted Aegon’s safety. 

\- Why the irresistible urge to meet him? You've never been so interested in him.

That much was true. Aegon avoided thinking about him, for Jon Snow was the son of the woman for whom Rhaegar had left Elia. He never forgave his father for it. Elia was regarded as a frail woman, and Rhaegar insisted on putting more children inside her because of a prophecy, even knowing the risk. He was angry at his father, angry at Lyanna Stark, angry at Jon Snow and he didn’t want to be. His brother is no dragon, he is a direwolf, and his name was as strange to Aegon as any northerner. Snow... The White Wolf, that's how they called him. Did the bastard also suffer because he lost his mother?

\- Why wouldn’t I?

\- Your Grace, he is a bastard...

\- A bastard, yes, but he's still my brother. 

Jon looked at him. Aegon knew that look, he was trying to read his mind.

\- Is about the Stark girl, isn’t it?

And he succeeded. 

\- Jon, this has nothing to do with Arya. Forget about it, I beg you.

\- I heard you unchained the dragon.

Aegon rolled his eyes.

\- Yeah, I did. He was suffering.

\- That was not wise.

\- Seven Hells, Jon! What do you want from me?!

\- I just want you to make the right choices before I...

\- Before you what?

\- Before I die.

The king laughed. - Do not be ridiculous. You're not going to die, not so soon.

Jon was quiet, staring at the floor. He was hiding something.

\- Jon, is there anything you wish to tell me?

\- I don’t think it would be wise...

\- Tell me. - Aegon interrupted.

Jon just took a deep breath and removed his gloves. His fingers were cracked and ashen as rocks, the marks extended to his elbows. Aegon felt a stab in his chest.

\- Jon, tell me this is not... - but it was, he knew it was. - How long?

\- A while ago, Your Grace. I have been using elixirs, vinegars, and medicines for years to slow the disease, but I fear nothing can be done. - He answered.

\- And you hid it from me all these years? Why?!

\- I didn’t want to worry you, my king. You had to be strong during the campaign, for sure.

\- How much time do you have?

\- If I’m lucky enough, a year, maybe two.

Aegon wanted to scream and cry and be comforted. But now he wasn’t the one in need of comfort.

\- Jon, if you had told me before... I'm sorry, I'm sorry for the way I acted.

\- You... you know I want you to be happy, don’t you? The Stark girl... your father started a war for one of them. He divided the kingdoms, and that shadow still haunts his name. He died for her, but you don’t need to have the same fate.

\- Why should I have the same fate? She is not betrothed, no one will raise theirs swords against me for this. Nothing like that ever happened. I send support tropes to the North, the Reach and the Riverlands, I'm paying all the Crown’s debts with the Iron Bank, I listen to audiences of my people whenever I can. There is no reason for a war, not against me. I'm not Rhaegar, Jon. I'm not your silver prince.

Old Griff's eyes filled with tears.

\- I’ll meet him when I die. Your father.

\- He must be proud of you, and so am I - He said.

Jon smiled one of his sad smiles, and Aegon came up to him, hugging his tall frame. He didn’t care about the greyscale. His doublet’s sleeves were long and he was wearing leather gloves.

\- You're a good king, Aegon. Mayhaps even better than Rhaegar would have been. 

That praise touched him. Aegon knew that Jon did not criticize Rhaegar.

\- Thank you, Jon.

\- Invite your brother to the Red Keep.

\- Do I have your blessing? 

\- Yes, you have.

 

~

 

He was going to explode. Aegon couldn’t deal with so many emotions. He was anxious to receive the answer from his half-brother, he was afraid Arya would not match his feelings and above all he was sad about Jon, so sad that warm tears ran down his cheeks.

He wanted Arya, wanted to be in her arms and forget all that. Maybe he would find her practicing or visiting her wolves in the kennels. But would she think him a craven for crying? She lost her father, mother and brothers...

Just like you, a voice told him.

Maybe we can heal each other.

He’d talk to her tomorrow, he would think of something to make her stay. Now he needed to sleep.

As he lay on the featherbed and pulled the expensive blankets to his face, sleep took him as fast as a dragon's flight.  
Random images flooded his mind. All this was very weird, for he was fully aware that he dreamed. There was a room lit only by the pale light of the moon. At the headboard he saw a vase of roses that in the gloom he couldn’t tell whether they were white or blue. At the side, abed, a girl slept.

Arya! He almost screamed for her name, but he did not do it for fear of waking his dream love. She was so beautiful, so peaceful.  
Aegon heard a creak coming from the door, and out of the darkness, a person walked lightly toward the bed. He was a man strangely similar to Aegon, only older and with longer hair. He sat down next to Arya and looked at her with eyes full of adoration.

What does he think he's doing?

There it was, the uncontrollable jealousy, anger and possessiveness. It was not fair, though. The way that man looked at her, as if she is something precious... the same way Aegon looks at her. He could not bear to see that man admiring Arya, he could not bear to see the way he touched her face, he could not stand another moment of it. Did Arya want him? What did that man have that Aegon didn’t? Their faces were the same, their garments were the same, and even their eyes were the same. Was that his older self? If so, why didn’t Arya look older? There were so many questions.

The man bent down to kiss her, and as the two lips met, Aegon woke up in the darkness of his chambers.

Was Arya awake? Was she with the other man? The idea seemed silly, but he had to check it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the lack of interaction between them, but I needed to show Aegon’s conflicts as well as Arya’s. PLEASE leave your comments and suggestions! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Arya was holding Needle tightly. She knew the little sword was no use to defend her, but it gave her a sense of security. Someone was coming through the shadows. 

It was Aegon, of course.

He held a saucer with a candle and walked towards her bed.

\- Why are you here? - Arya whispered and almost sent him away, but lost her courage when she saw his teary eyes. - Aegon, - she said, sitting down on the soft mattress. - What happened?

\- May I sit next to you? - He asked.

Arya nodded.

\- Jon... he...

\- He what?

Aegon gulped.

\- He has greyscale. I'm sorry, Arya, I dreamed of you and... I needed to see you. 

Her eyes widened. It was true that Jon Connington had no love for her; in fact, no one in the southern court seemed to like her, but she knew Aegon loved the man.

\- Aegon, I'm terribly sorry. There are no ways to heal him? - Arya took his hand in hers. 

\- No. There might be a way if the disease was on the superficial layers of the skin, but I'm afraid it's already spreading to his blood.

She bit her lip.

\- What about me? Is there anything I can do to help you?

\- Could I... could I stay a little longer?

She smiled and lifted the covers so he could lie down beside her.

They lay looking at each other. Arya was praying for Sansa not to wake up, but she was on the other side of the room, which was divided by a thin wall.

\- Tell me something.

\- Hm?

\- Tell me a story, something that happened to you. Something happy.

Arya did not know what to say. What did she know about happiness? At first she felt like an outcast inside her own home, since everything she did was wrong. Then she went to King's Landing, saw her father’s execution; traveled with Night's Watch in the company of murderers and rapists, and Yoren did not hesitate to beat her bloody. Then she confronted Amory Lorch's men and was enslaved and beaten at Harrenhal; and when she finally managed to escape, the Bloody Mummurs chased her. The only people she considered her true friends left her with no second thoughts, and then she was taken by the Hound who always threatened to hurt her. Arya only had the least stability when she arrived at a temple full of assassins who tried to deprive her of her own identity. Her return to Westeros only made things worse. Her mother... how could Arya comfort Aegon if she couldn’t comfort herself?

\- I don’t know what to say. I have many stories, but they are not exactly happy...

\- There's something that can make you happy, I think.

She raised an eyebrow.

\- What do you mean?

\- I invited Jon to the Red Keep... Jon Snow, your brother, or your cousin. I don’t know.

\- What? - She asked, taken aback.

\- I sent him a raven. I thought you might like it. - Aegon said, uncertain of his actions.

He did not have to be, though. She couldn’t be more excited. Jon was coming. Oh, that brightened her night.

\- Aegon, I loved that. It was really thoughtful.

She looked deep in his eyes and he seemed relieved. But would Jon accept? He never liked the southern customs, he wasn’t familiar with them.

Nor am I. 

\- I'm glad to hear.

\- I have a happy story about Jon... - at least in her eyes it was a happy story. - For all his life he was treated as a bastard, always dreaming of being what he could never be: the Lord of Winterfell. He went to take the black, where he swore never to wear a crown or hold lands or win glories. He still wanted, though, he always wanted, but Jon was too honorable to accept Stannis's offer. When I returned to the Riverlands I found Robb's crown with a group of outlaws. - She took a deep breath. She’d tell him what happened in parts, but Arya couldn’t speak of Lady Stoneheart. - Before returning to the North, I found Nymeria at the Trident, where we had parted years ago. It was like feeling whole again, and her pack is much bigger, what I brought to King's Landing is nothing, really. There was a little succession crisis in the North with Rickon's return after Robb's letter was revealed. Thinking that our brothers were dead, he declared Jon as his heir since by all laws my sister Sansa would be the one to inherit, but she was married to the Imp, and no Lannister should have power over our lands. One day the council decided that by Robb's will, Jon would reign until Rickon was of age. I mean, that was before Bran came back. I crowned Jon myself. When I was a child he said "girls are given the arms, but not the swords; bastards are given the swords, but not the arms." That didn’t stop him from giving me a sword, nor did it stop me from giving him the arms.

He smiled.

\- You crowned him as Visenya crowned Aegon the Conqueror.

And she laughed.

\- I suppose.

\- And was he happy with the title of King in the North?

\- He was glad to be esteemed, but that did not last long... he found out that ruling is more of a burden than a pleasure.

\- That is true. - Aegon agreed.

\- Sometimes I think he misses living beyond the Wall, a much freer life where all he would do was hunt and kiss wildling princesses.

\- I definitely understand, but there's only one wildling princess I'd like to kiss.

He was staring at her intently as if he expected some resistance, and she wanted to resist.

\- Aegon...

\- Have you ever loved someone?

The question frightened her. Has she ever loved someone? There has never been much love in her life. She thought of Gendry, but if Gendry had loved her, he wouldn’t have left her.

\- I... I do not know.

\- Arya... - he whispered.

Aegon's eyes were heavy with need, her heart thumped fast. He was looking at her hungrily, zeroing on her lips. His long fingers caressed her back and then he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow and this was his last change.

And maybe it was.

His kisses were not forceful but definitely demanding and his heart was beating wildly in his chest.

He had her pinned underneath him with his hips, Arya wrapped her legs around him and kissed him even more madly if it was possible.

Her hands found his soft silver hair and scratched the back of his head with her nails making him growl and bite her bottom lip. Surprised, Arya opened her mouth and was greeted by another wave of lust as Aegon plunged his tongue inside. In matters of seconds their tongues were dancing and their hands were wandering on each other's bodies.

Gods, what was she doing?

\- S-stop... - she tried to say, but she barely heard her own voice. 

\- No. - He replied as he kissed down her neck.

\- Aegon...

\- I like it when you say my name. Gods, you are so beautiful. Let me love you, Arya.

Before Arya could answer him, she heard a noise from the other side of the room and never thought she would be so grateful to her sister.

\- Sansa woke up, you need to leave. 

Frustrated, Aegon nodded, stepped off of her and looked back with a promise in his gaze before disappearing behind the fireplace.

 

~

 

Jon's POV

He was not a dragon.

There is no triumphant discovery of his Targaryen roots, no jubilant claim to his name and no adoption of an identity he is unfamiliar with. All Jon's training is that of a Stark. Ned is the father Jon loves. The Starks are the siblings with whom he grew up. Winterfell is the only home he knew, and he was, along with Arya, the only one to inherit the northern ancestral appearance. Finding out that Ned was not his father did not come with any sense of validation, purpose or joy; but with a deep sense of devastation. What mattered most about the revelation of kinship is not that Rhaegar Targaryen was Jon's father, but that Eddard Stark was not. He did not care about Rhaegar. It wasn’t as if being conceived to fulfill a prophecy was a happy discovery, nor was the realization of how many people paid the price so that the handsome prince could acquire a prophetic child. This was the mark of an existential crisis. Jon did not need to be a supernatural redeemer to understand the threat of the Others, nor did he need a prophecy to point him in the direction of the crucial struggle for the survival of the Seven Kingdoms. He was already doing it on his own. Jon did not fight for being be Rhaegar's son, he fought because Eddard Stark raised him to be a man who fights for the greater good. He fought because it was the right thing to do. "You have more of the North in you than your brothers," Tyrion Lannister once said. Jon's hair was straight and brown, unlike Robb's auburn curls. Jon's eyes were grey like the granite that forms the walls of Winterfell. Jon's face was long and solemn. The beast that accompanied him was a direwolf. Even the name Snow was something that spread through the endless meadows of the North. Yes, he was no dragon, but his half-brother was. That sounded so odd...  
The half-brothers he knew and loved were Robb, Bran and Rickon. Now this stranger he had never seen in life invited him south in a perfumed letter. Was it possible that the man wanted him dead to ensure that no one usurps his Throne? No... King Aegon was a good man, everyone said so. Jon decided to go, not for the dragon, but for Arya. Anything for Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry for the grammar mistakes and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please leve your comments and suggestions! :)


	10. Chapter 10

How could she tell him to stop? How could she tell him that this... thing they have isn’t right?

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but you’re spoiled and demanding and must take from your stupid head the idea that I will stay here."

Maybe doing so he’d understand. Yes, he was spoiled and demanding, but Aegon awakened in her a sense of belonging, he made her feel wanted, and only Jon and Nymeria ever made her feel that way. Arya did not understand, though. She did not understand how the king could want her. Her stitching was poor, she barely knew how to dance, and she didn’t even dare sing.  
Well, maybe that’s why, maybe he'd just been bored with the sameness of the court and wanted something different to brighten up his routine. But there was so much honesty on his features...

He invited Jon just to make me happy, she thought.

When was the last time someone did something for her happiness? She could think of the day Jon gave her Needle or the day her father hired Syrio Forel. 

But that was stupid. Aegon didn’t know half of the things she’d done. He doesn’t have many friends here, not really. The only people he really trusts are Lord Connington and Rolly Duckfield, and Lord Connington is dying...

Perhaps I could...

No, I can’t.

I am not worthy of love. I'm not.

\- M’lady? - A stableboy said. He was thin and shy and blushed as he spoke to her. She felt her heart tighten. He reminded her of the stableboy she’d killed at the same place a thousand years ago. He was just a scared child in search of a reward, and she killed him. How cruel this world can be. Sometimes, at night, she hoped that one day the folk would raise their torches and hoes against the despotism and vanity of the nobility. She knew she was a Stark, but how good can a rebellion be if the people are not allowed to walk over the heads of kings? At the end of the day it is the fishermen and peasants and millers and bakers who suffer the most for the royalty’s whims.

\- What is it, little one? - Arya answered in a gentle tone.

\- His Grace is looking for you. He’s waiting for an audience.

\- Of course he is. - She said, more to herself than to the boy. - Thank you.

He smiled and hurried off. Bullshit, she knew. Aegon did not want to talk about politics. Gods, she couldn’t have a minute of peace. Arya knew he wouldn’t leave her alone until she did what he wanted, so she climbed the serpentine’s steps to the Tower of the Hand. 

As she crossed the corridor, Arya heard the voices of singers rejoicing the castle’s halls.

\- Dragonborn, Dragonborn  
By his honor is sworn  
To keep evil forever at bay  
And the fierce foe rout  
When they hear triumph's shout  
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray

They were singing a song about Aegon, she had heard it before. The way people idolized him...  
He was a good king, but a king without great military achievements like Robb. He only had to appear in Westeros after the war to gain the support of the Faith, Dorne, the Reach and everyone else. Aegon never brought fire and blood to the Seven Kingdoms; the fire and blood of the Seven Kingdoms brought Aegon.

\- Good afternoon, Lady Arya. - Duck said, opening the door for her to enter. She liked Duck.

Arya smiled at him and as she turned to close the door she felt arms wrapping around her waist.

\- Finally. - Aegon say with his lips on her neck. - I’ve missed you...

\- Your grace...

\- Are we back in formal terms? Tell me, my princess.

\- You have to stop.

\- I don’t understand...

She walked two steps back.

\- Why do you try to court me? 

Aegon opened his mouth and closed it. - Why, I adore you, Arya. I want to be with you, I think about you all the time.

\- You don’t even know me! You don’t know the things I've done! - She shouted.

\- Are you talking about killing? Well, I’ll have you know that I’ve killed as well! All my bannermen and all my King's Guard also killed! Your family killed, my family killed, Jon Snow killed!

\- I'm not talking about killing, I'm talking kinslaying!

The goblet of wine he was holding fell to the ground forming a purple stain on the beautiful qohorik rug. Kinslaying was an unforgivable crime in the eyes of the old gods and the new. And how would she explain it to him?

\- Do not be silly.

\- I'm not being silly, stupid. 

\- Arya, my love, with all due respect, your family was already...

\- Was not. - She interrupted him. - If you want to know what happened, you better sit down. It's a long story.

Surprised, Aegon did as he was told. She sat beside him and closed her eyes trying to find the right words to report what had happened.

\- After the Red Wedding, the Freys threw my mother’s body into the river as a mockery of the Tully’s funeral ritual. I tried to save her, I swear I tried... I still remember the cold water, the smell of the earth and the dried blood... I was inside Nymeria when I... I prayed for her to rise and sometimes the gods hear our prayers. Long afterwards I went back to the Riverlands and got captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners, the group of outlaws commanded by Beric Dondarrion. He was dead, but she was not. The eyes that once were as blue as the sky were pale, the beautiful red hair that she valued so much were smashed and white, the peach-soft skin was wet and greenish. Her throat had a deep cut, she could not even speak. I spent so much time trying to get to her... I ran away from Harrenhal, from the Brave Companions, I escaped the Brotherhood and the Hound who only wanted to ransom me for some silver coins. Finally, when I was so close, it was too late. I came back, I was taken prisoner once again, but knowing that Lord Beric had sacrificed himself to bring my mother back, can you imagine my happiness? He had kept his promise. He swore by his honor as a knight that he would reunite me with my mother. But my mother was no longer my mother. She rose differently, with a taste for blood and bones and revenge. She wanted to feed the ravens and kill anyone who was in her way. Anyone with a minimum blood connection to the Freys, Lannisters and Boltons had a guaranteed death sentence, whether it was men, women, or children. No one dared to stop her, so I had to do something. Innocents were paying for the sins of dead lords... it was all my fault, if I had left the body in the river nothing of that would have happened. I needed to save her, she was suffering... I couldn’t cut her throat because it was already cut, so I stuck my sword in her heart. Lady Stoneheart, that's what they called her, since Catelyn Tully was already dead. I gave her the funeral she deserved on the flaming boat, with the trout returning to its primordial home, but the burden of guilt never left me.

Arya summed it all up without letting a single tear fall. She remembered the trick the Faceless Men had taught her, to rule her face, to show nothing. She did not want to look weak in front of Aegon, but that day she was weaker than ever. "Do you know where the heart is?" She remembered the Hound asking. That was the true gift of mercy. It was cold in the Trident, and rained. She was lying on the muddy ground of the woods, and would have stayed there if Gendry hadn’t caught her in his arms and taken her to inn. She was too weak to fight him, instead she just cried on his chest. Arya was glad he didn’t mind her filth; all he did was wipe her face and press a featherlight kiss to her lips, a kiss that said "you did the right thing." Still, it is as if this mark haunted her, as if she was surrounded by death. Arya didn’t want this life, and it was when she saw the black blood gleaming on Needle that she decided to leave that list behind. That was revenge, what became of her once beautiful mother.

Aegon said nothing, just stood wide eyed in front of her.

\- Now you know, Your Grace.

She hurried out the door and didn’t even say a word to Duck.

Aegon will not want me anymore.

 

~

Gendry POV

 

He wanted her. The Lord of Light knew how much he wanted her, but it did not matter.

Would she ever forgive him?

Never mind, he thought. Even if she forgave him, the two of them would still be living in different worlds, for she was a princess and he was a bastard. Arya will marry some flowery lord.

And you're going to stay here hammering swords for the rest of your life. The sparks of boiling armor and helmets burned in his skin as Willow's shrill voice shouted some order.

When Arya came back she was so different, more mature, more beautiful. She was still thin and boyish, but there was something different about her, something dangerous. Her grey eyes were hard as new steel, sometimes they were iron in its raw form, sometimes they were reddened when she cried alone, like a sword still warm from the fire. One day he heard her talking to Thoros and remembered the words with the tip of his tongue:

"Everyone leaves me or dies, no one wants me around. It's always been like this, it will always be like this."

That made Gendry so angry. It seemed as if she was saying those things on purpose just to hurt him.

And it worked.

He lived in an eternal dilemma between loving her and hating her. His life was surrounded by Arya Stark. She was part of the establishment that crushed the people, and many died by the name she carried. Yet he could not get her out of his thoughts. He wanted to touch her again, he wanted to kiss her again, he wanted her to look at him with longing in her eyes.  
When he saw the misery that the war had inflicted upon the smallfolk he had discounted his hatred on Arya, but when he remembered her underneath him, ready and wild and beautiful, Gendry knew he could never deny her. It was torture.

If only she could understand... he wasn’t her lapdog, for fuck’s sake. He needed a place in the world, a place where he wasn’t a mere servant. A place where he would be useful, where he could help the people. He wasn’t taking advantage of her courage to save himself and then abandon her.

I never abandoned you, Gendry said to the wind in hope that it would carry the message to Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sad chapter about how Arya left revenge behind (I think she’s the one who’ll kill LSH in the books as well)
> 
> Also a little of Gendry’s POV showing his anger and frustration because usually he is portrayed as a cinnamon roll in fics, and he is not.
> 
> Sorry for my mistakes and I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please leave your comments and suggestions. :)
> 
> PS: Skyrim reference on the “dragonborn” song.


	11. Chapter 11

Aegon gave Arya all the space she needed. He hadn’t talked to her in a week, but not without demanding news from Varys's little birds. She is said to spend her mornings on the balcony waiting for the arrival of Jon Snow and practice her water dance during the afternoon. The nights were for her wolves and her wolves alone.

Does she think of him the way he thinks of her?

The story she told him... the task of killing her own mother. Aegon knew that Arya had suffered, but that was a horror he could not imagine even in his worst nightmares.

Who comforted her? Jon Snow?

Perhaps Arya only craved for love, just like Aegon. He wondered if she’d ever been the first in someone's heart, the most cherished, the most appreciated. Somehow he thought not, not except for his brother.

I would give her love. All of my love.

But Arya doesn’t seem so willing to accept his love, or anyone’s for that matter. She is full of guilt, she doesn’t allow herself to be loved.

I should feel guilty, he thought. And even I still have the audacity to allow myself to love.

Arya needed to know.

\- Duck, - Aegon said to his knight. - Bring Arya Stark to me, and this time do not let her leave without my permission.

\- Yes, Your Grace, - he replied.

Aegon stood up and filled two goblets with sweet white wine usually reserved to be tasted with desserts. The golden-yellow liquid was soft and aromatic. The faint flavor of the drink touched his tongue and gently descended down his throat. Wine was Aegon's weakness, but he was careful not to become addicted, for he liked the taste, not drunkenness. The enrichment of some of the Houses from the Reach created a craze for rare wines. The white grape needs less heat than red grapes to ripen, and that’s why the best red is dornish. In Sunspear they say that Arbor Red is actually red water. Arya seemed to be more of an ale person, though. He heard that White Harbor produces huge barrels of black and thick ale as expensive as Arbor Gold.

\- Lady Arya Stark, Your Grace. - Duck announced. She seemed annoyed that they had interrupted her training. Her boots were covered with mud and her hair was wet. Aegon hadn’t even noticed that it was raining outside. 

\- By gods, Arya. Duck, ask someone to bring tea and warm clothes for her. Cold wine wasn’t a good idea. 

\- It won’t be necessary... - she tried to say, but Duck was already gone and now they were alone in his quarters. 

\- Please sit down. - He pointed to the other available chair. 

\- I'd rather not. 

He sighed and rolled his eyes. 

\- As you wish, my lady. 

Before she could answer, two handmaids knocked on the door asking for permission to enter. Aegon consented, and they set the tea cup on the table along with a dark blue velvet dress and a blanket. 

\- That will be all. Leave us. - He said to the girls. 

\- Now you want to tell me what to wear? 

\- You're testing my patience. I'm not telling you what to wear, I'm just worried about your well being, but if you'd rather act like that, then yes, I'm telling you what to wear. Now you go behind those curtains and put on that dress before the tea cools. Your king commands. 

\- You are not my king. - She replied, red with anger. 

\- You are in my kingdom, so I am your king. Do as I say. Aegon spoke so rigidly that he barely recognized himself, but he didn’t regret it. It was about time to man up.  
Arya put her hand on the sword's pommel, and for a moment he thought she would attack him, but instead she began untying the laces of her leather jerking, right in front of him. That was a clever and dirty move. Aegon looked away from her, hearing the sound of her robes falling to the floor. He was writhing with desire and drinking all the wine in one gulp.

\- You can look now, Your Grace. - He could still feel the fury in her voice.

The heavy fabric of the dress hugged Arya's curves in the right places, leaving the pale skin of her collarbone exposed, but hiding her neck. She looked beautiful as always. 

\- Very well... Arya, I called you here because I thought I wasn’t being fair with you.

\- You think so? - She asked sarcastically.

Damn her.

\- Will you let me finish? It’s about the story you told me that day... your mother... Arya, you weren’t wrong. All you did was end her suffering and save other people from harm.

\- I...

\- Arya, I'm half dornish. My mother was murdered along with my sister by Tywin Lannister's men. The same thing would have happened to me if not for Varys. For years Dorne had planned the ruin of the Lannisters, for years they wanted fire and blood, and I allowed them to have what they wanted: Casterly Rock on bones and smoke. Who could judge me? Not even the children were spared. The illegitimate children of Cersei Lannister...

\- Tommen and Myrcella. I met them long ago, they were sweet children...

He gulped.

\- So I was told.

\- Did you kill them?

\- The Sand Snakes killed them with my permission. Tyene poisoned the boy and Obara killed the girl with her spear. I ask you again, do you think someone judged me? The people wanted justice, the court didn’t care for the bastard sons of the Kingslayer. No one would’ve judged your father if he had revealed the truth to Robert. All of Tywin’s legacy burned into flames, but why was I different from him? Innocents paid for his fury, innocent children. And after my campaign, innocent children paid for mine.

Arya crossed her arms and bit her lip, not knowing what to say.

\- That's revenge, is not it? What else don’t I know about you, Aegon?

\- As much as I do not know about you, I suppose. Arya, I want to know you and I want you to know me. It was my fault to have... hurried things, but perhaps if we could go slow...

She sat down beside him and kissed his knuckles.

\- Slow. - She said.

\- Would you like to walk with me around the city tomorrow? No King’s Guard, just you and me. We’ll sneak out of the Keep and pretend to be commoners, what do you say?

 

~

 

That night Arya went alone to the godswood to pray. She knelt down and stayed there for hours. She took a deep breath and put her hand on the heart-tree and for a moment Arya thought she heard a low voice saying "I never abandoned you." She lay on the ground and slept, but instead of dreaming her wolf dreams, she dreamed of a tall, strong man with sad, stubborn blue eyes. Her vision was adjusting to the dark, and when she looked up there he stood with hammer in hand. 

\- I thought you were different, but you're just like all those highborn ladies in love with the Targaryen prince. - He said, laughing in disgust. 

\- It's not fair of you to say. I never chose him over you, it was you who chose to leave me.

\- I did what had to be done because you were going to leave me anyway, you’d return to your lordly brothers who would marry you to a king.

\- You know nothing of my brothers. I’d never have left you.

\- Well, now it's too late, is not it? You have your king. We’ve got separate destinies, nothing good will come from the love that I feel for you. 

\- You love me?

\- I've always loved you, Arya. You do not know how much it pains me to see you with another man. Come back into my arms, please.

The thought of seeing him with another woman also did not please her, but she couldn’t explain why. 

\- You're just a stupid bull. 

It was so unfair. To stay with Aegon Arya would have to give up on Winterfell and her family, and to stay with Gendry Arya would have to give up on Winterfell and her family. Even in dreams she knew she’d have to forget herself to be loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a dark chapter showing that Aegon is no cinnamon roll and subverting the “perfect king” tropes. Good people can also do terrible things. 
> 
> Our Arya is very complex. She doesn’t think she’s worthy of love or admiration because all her life she felt inferior to Sansa or abandoned by her own friends. She can’t stand lack of loyalty and that’s why she have deep issues with Gendry. He still holds some appeal to her but she won’t admit it. Life’s like this. 
> 
> At first Aegon saw in her a free spirited young girl, a magical being that has power over wolves, a clever woman who can speak several languages. And she’s all of that, but also much more. Of course that a man who was shaped to rule and not to care about his own individuality would feel attracted to her, but now he’s getting to know her and falling harder everyday.
> 
> So, what do you guys want to see? More jealous Aegon? Smut? Fluff?
> 
> And yes, Aegon is wine snob.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was my attempt to write a medieval date between Aegon and Arya. Again, sorry for everything!

Aegon had completely forgotten that there would be more members of the dornish court that afternoon arriving at the Keep to attend the Great Council. Apparently he’d have to postpone the tour with Arya for the night.

He, as always, dressed in black and red. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time he wore different colors. Maybe it was during his years in Pentos. He looked at the ruby choker that Illyrio had given him but decided not to wear it. It was too extravagant for the occasion.

When Aegon entered the hall they all bonded. He could see Arya behind Lady Sansa talking to a man older than herself and younger than him. His hair was gray-blond, and his eyes were purplish like Aegon's, or perhaps a shade so dark of blue as to look purple. He recognized the secrecy in the man's coat of arms, that was a Dayne of Starfall. They had a track record with the Starks, but he didn’t like it at all.

Control yourself.

This was not a ceremony or a ball or a banquet where he could steal Arya from the company of other men, this was a meeting to handle political matters. All members of the Council sat down to discuss the settlements of the warships that Dorne borrowed from Braavos to assist in the battles against the Greyjoys. This was a headache. If Aegon had his way he’d fly on Viseryon’s back to the Iron Islands and burn it all.

"Bring the bottles of hippocras, the ones that Prince Doran sent, they’re in my quarters. - Aegon said to the cupbearer. 

Sunspear's hippocras was coarser than Highgarden's. The spices weren’t filtered and there was always pieces at the bottom of the gobblets.  
He had the sense not to serve the dornish any drink other than a good, strong drink. Sometimes Aegon cursed Queen Nymeria for burning all her ten thousand ships.

 

~

 

\- Lord Edric Dayne, eh? - Aegon said from behind her. Arya couldn’t see him but she knew he was there. She always knows.  
They were again inside the tunnel leading to thousands of passages. That became their secret place.

\- Do not start with that.

\- How did you two meet?

\- Many years ago when he was Lord Beric Dondarrion's squire. I was ten years old.

\- And do you like him?

Arya punched Aegon's arm.

\- Ow! Why did you do that?! - He replied, massaging the area where she hit him.

\- Did you really call me here to ask questions about Edric Dayne?

\- I am the king, it is my right to know.

He couldn’t see her face but he knew Arya rolled her eyes and he suddenly felt bad.

\- Arya, I'm sorry. It's just... you make me feel... I'm sorry. Let's just enjoy the evening, shall we?

\- Fine, stupid.

He smiled and took her hand in his. They were both dressed not to be recognized, cloaked and concealed.

\- Would you mind talking to me in another language to avoid unwanted attention?

\- Well, why didn’t you ask before, Your Grace? - She said in a familiar bastard valyrian.

\- Have you ever been to Pentos, my lady? - Aegon answered in the same language.

\- I'm afraid I haven’t. Why?

\- In Pentos people speak this same bastard valyrian. 

She probably bit her lip. Aegon knew she did it when she was thinking.

\- Do you miss it? Pentos? 

The question caught him by surprise. Did he miss Pentos?

\- Yes, I miss the life beyond the Narrow Sea. The Free Cities are much bigger than any city in the Seven Kingdoms.

\- I wish I’d known Pentos. I only know Braavos.

\- Braavos... the magisters have always had problems with Braavos. They complain of all the sanctions imposed by the Sealord.

\- It must be really terrible that you can no longer enslave people.

That made him laugh.

\- You remind me of my aunt sometimes, I told you so, did not I? One way or another the pentoshi have slaves in all but name. The city is full of "free bond servants", who are collared and branded like slaves. Although they are free men and women by law, the cost of their food, clothing and shelter is higher than the value of their service and they become indebted to their masters.

\- That's not fair.

\- No, it's not. Watch the steps, we'll need to get down.

Aegon held her hand tighter as they descended the steps and he felt a shiver go through the back of his neck.

\- How old are these tunnels?

\- A few centuries. Most were built under the orders of Maegor the Cruel.

\- In Winterfell there are passages I do not know myself. Only Bran... he knows more about the secrets of our castle than the maester himself.

\- You Starks are quite rustic, aren’t you? I heard you keep your deads in crypts under Winterfell.

She laughed again. 

\- There are all the Winter Kings and Wardens of the North. All but... all but Robb. They never found his body.

Aegon felt the piercing of a sword inside his chest.

\- Arya, I'm so sorry...

\- It's not your fault. Maybe there are others who were not buried there either. - She interrupted. - Where are we going?

\- I can not tell you, but I guarantee you'll like it.

They left the Red Keep in the background, a place full of chickens and pigs. The smell was almost as unbearable as the smell of the latrines infesting King's Landing. Aegon remembered hearing that Aerys Targaryen wanted to build a marble-only city so it would not stink. 

The fool.

\- What have you done with your hair, you stupid? - She asked, laughing.

Aegon dyed his hair blue as he used to do years ago, in the tunnel Arya could not see, but now she saw it.

\- This is my secret identity. Now I'm a sellsword from Tyrosh.

Arya examined him with attention.

\- I liked it. Matches your eyes.

\- Thank you, my lady. Maybe we should do it.

\- Do what?

\- Take a ship and flee to the Free Cities and live as sellswords. Maybe we could stay at Illyrio Mopatis's house. He has such a great stock of wine that could get a man drunk for a year. The singers would love us.

\- The singers already love you, Your Grace.

\- Not "Your Grace", now I'm Griff. It seems that I charm them better than I charm you.

Arya smiled at that. He loved her smile.

\- This way.

\- Rhaenys Hill? - She asked as they jostled in the crowd.

\- You want to know a secret?

Arya nodded.

\- See that brothel over there? - Aegon pointed toward the luxurious establishment. - It is very frequented by nobles, they say it was King Robert's favorite. What few people know is that there is a passage leading to a stable near the Red Keep. Varys told me that the tunnel was built by a Hand of the King whose honor would not allow him to attend these places openly. The brothel is relatively new, I suppose it has existed since the reign of Aerys. I've researched about all Hands from my grandfather to Robert's reign. Some were old men, others did not stay long, and others did not have enough gold to order such construction. The only ones who held the position long enough and had the necessary purchasing power were Jon Arryn and...

\- Tywin Lannister.

Arya was like that, quick and clever.

\- It turns out Jon Arryn did not know about the passage. He visited the brothel in the light of day when he went to meet Robert's newborn bastard.

\- Oh...

\- Yes, who would have guessed? The proud Lion of Lannister, the solemn widower, the dreaded Warden of the West. After escaping from the Black Cells Tyrion Lannister found a whore in his father's bed. His whore.

\- I bet the dornish love this story.

\- Believe me, they do.

\- You wanted to show me a brothel?

\- No, the brothel is only part of the entertainment. Would you like something to drink?

\- Of course. 

He led her to a tavern, a livable tavern, though he thought Arya did not care much about it. One of the things he liked about Arya was her love for the people. She spent so much time with fishermen and bakers and peasants that she had no demands that a highborn lady would have. Her features didn’t deceive him, though. Anyone could recognize by far the long and sharp bone structure of a Stark, and her eyes... grayer than Storm Land’s sky.

Aegon pulled out a chair for her to sit on, and Arya rolled her eyes again. She wanted to do everything by herself.

\- Stay here, I'll get us something. 

He came back with two large horns of ale. It was no godly nectar, but the ale was at least decent and not the usual brown piss.

\- I've heard that the taverns and inns of Braavos are far better than the ones here.

Arya wiped the foam that formed on the corner of her mouth and that sight was so improper... 

Oh, to be a drop on her lips.

\- The best taverns of Braavos are near the Moon Pool, where the water dancers duel.

\- You asked me if I miss Pentos, but do you miss Braavos?

He found himself very curious. 

\- Sometimes. I miss sailing, the sound of the waves crashing against the hulls of the ships, the salt water and the strong wind. I miss the pirates and mummers and the old songs of the Royne. But Braavos is a place where trees do not grow, where the old gods of the North don’t exist. There I can not take root.

And what if I took you to Dragonstone? He wanted to ask.

\- I get it. To be honest, I feel more at home in Dragonstone than in the Red Keep.

\- You don’t like it very much, do you? All the kingly duties...

\- Well, I was perfectly comfortable in my position until you arrived.

\- Until I arrived?

\- You make me wanna misbehave.

\- If only my Septa could hear that I make the king misbehave...

Aegon all but laughed.

\- I also had some problems with my Septa, but that's a matter for another time. Now there's one last place I'd like to take you.

Again he grabbed her hand and tossed a few copper coins on the table. That felt so right, to hold her hand. They were going to Street of the Sisters. It must have been the hour of the bat because everything became quiet and deserted. The pale light of the huge lantern denounced the position of the mysterious place. Aegon knocked three times on the wooden door and an old, hooded man received them.

\- Your Grace, - said the man with his cracked voice, - we have been waiting for you. And who is your lovely companion?

\- Lady Arya of House Stark.

\- My lady, - he said, holding her hand, - welcome to the Guildhall.

Arya's jaw dropped. He did not know if it was wise of him to take her to see the producers of the substance that killed her grandfather, but something told him she would like it.

\- Please, follow me.

They followed the mysterious figure through the dark and stony tunnels. He must be the Grand Master.

\- Our Guild is ancient, even older than the Maesters of the Citadel, those grey sheeps. In glorious times when we were at the height of our power it was possible to create living creatures of flames and metal. And, of course, from wildfire. Making wildfire is a lengthy and dangerous process. We place the liquid in small jars of pottery, the clay roughened and pebbled to improve grip. The jars are filed in a series of bare stone cells. Over each cell lies a room filled with sand and is protected with spells on the floor so that should happen, the sand will fall on the fire and help extinguish it. Old wildfire is fickle; any flame or spark can set them off. Too much heat - such as being exposed to sunlight for even a short time - could lead to a fire. The most volatile jars of wildfire are transported from place to place only by night, in carts filled with sand to lessen jostling at all, and then sealed in wax and placed in rooms pumped full of water.

So that's why this place is so cold, Aegon thought. He looked around and saw alchemist’s acolytes mixing the substance in large cauldrons. Arya saw it too, her face lit by the green light.

\- Cersei Lannister burned the Tower of the Hand with wildfire years ago. I had to rebuild but some passages have been lost forever. - He whispered to her ear.

They walked for one hour between the labyrinth of rocks, seeing ingredients and ancient books, metals and other minerals from Asshai and the Jade Sea. The Grand Master spoke of King Aegon IV Targaryen who dreamed of conquering Dorne and commissioned dragons. The pyromancers, however, constructed massive devices fitted with pumps that shot jets of wildfire. One of the engines went up in flames in the kingswood and soon all seven burned, taking a quarter of the kingswood with them and forcing Aegon to abandon his scheme.

\- Thank you for your kindness to show us this ancestral art, my... Lord. But I'm afraid it's too late and Lady Arya must be tired. Forgive us for taking so much of your time.

\- There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace. Come back whenever you wish. - He spoke with some excitement.

\- Did you see how happy he was? - Aegon said to Arya as they walked through the deserted streets. - The pyromancers lost power during Robert's rule and lost prestige in Cersei's regency. They believe that with me they will return to occupy a prominent position.

\- That will not happen, will it?

\- No my love. It won’t. 

This time she did not seem annoyed that he called her "my love." On the contrary, she seemed to be blushing.

\- Did you like it?

\- Aegon, everything you’re doing for me... Viseryon, Jon, and now this... you're making me happy.

Arya was staring at him intensely. He traced her lips with his thumb and she closed her eyes.

\- May I? - He asked.

\- Yes.

Their lips touched gently. Aegon's hands came down to Arya's waist and he squeezed it. He felt her opening and mouth to allow his tongue to enter. Her hands were pulling and stroking his blue hair. At this point Arya must be feeling the hardness between his legs pressed against her feminine form. Aegon couldn’t bare it any longer. He pushed her into a dark alley and pressed her against the wall, then began to kiss and lick her neck, and his hand came up to massage her breast.

\- I want to devour you.

\- Aegon...

\- Yes, say it again.

\- No, Aegon, behind you!

Before he could react, Arya pushed him so hard that he fell to the ground. It was so dark and he couldn’t see a thing, just listen to the music of swords hitting each other. Was Arya fighting? She brought a sword with her, she always brings a sword with her, but how could she see in the dark? Could it be that other gift of wargs or did she learn by herself? It did not matter, the only thing that mattered was that Arya was in danger and he needed to do something.

\- Do not move, stupid, - she shouted, - you're going to get hurt! I already finished with one of them.

One of them? There were more than one? Damn, he needed to change the commander of the city guard. There were at least three. Aegon heard one of them escape, one was dead, and the other begged for mercy.

\- Thieves. - Arya said.

\- Let's get out of here, Arya.

He lifted her by the arm, leaving the injured man on the ground.

\- Your Golden Cloaks are slow and lazy.

He was obliged to agree.

\- You saved my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visenya once saved Aegon from being attacked in KL with her sword, so I wanted Arya to do the same.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for taking sooo long. I’ve got a new puppy dog and he’s consuming all of my time, but I can assure that I won’t abandon this fic and I already know the ending. Thanks for your patience, guys!

\- You saved my life. - He said, purple eyes shining.

Arya hadn’t had a good sword fight in a while. The robbery was almost an entertainment.

\- You wouldn’t have this much fun without me, stupid.

\- You call it fun?

\- Well, it wasn’t boring. In fact I would say it was invigorating.

\- How can you fight in the dark?

She lowered her eyes, not wanting to touch the subject.

\- Maybe one day I'll tell you. Now, I think we'd better get back to the Red Keep. Your King's Guard would never forgive me if they knew His Grace was harmed.

\- You're better than half of my King's Guard.

She smiled at that. This time they went down a trapdoor in a new passage she did not know, the basement was lit by candles and it kept innumerable oak barrels.

\- Here are some of my best wines.

\- Some?

\- Yes, for special occasions.

Aegon opened a small barrel and poured the red liquid into a wooden cup, bringing the wine to his lips and taking a sip.

\- Here, try this one. Plum’s wine from Qohor. - He handed her the cup.

The taste was strong and exotic. Arya was happy for Aegon to avoid serving her more Arbor Gold. Whenever Arbor Gold is served, it is certain there are secrets in progress, with drawn farces, or hidden intentions. It's as if Arbor Gold was used to serve lies.

\- You intend to make me drunk, Your Grace?

\- No, I like to persuade you naturally.

\- Are there many passages you haven’t shown me?

\- Oh yes. Maybe I'll show you, but you’ll have to deserve it.

\- To deserve it? And how can I deserve it?

He smirked and set the cup down.

\- Kiss me.

Arya approached his face and kissed his cheek.

\- Not good enough.

Now she kissed his other cheek.

\- Still not enough.

She kissed his lips, feeling the sting of wine on his tongue. His hands were soon squeezing her arse. She bit her bottom lip and he moaned inside her mouth. Boldly, she started to kiss his neck, then his jaw, then his ear.

\- It'll never be enough...

His hand traved from her ass to the back of her thighs, he separated her legs and stroked her center. She arched her back and cupped his shoulders.

\- Aegon, I want you.

\- I want you, - he whispered between kisses - I want to take you. I want to have you.

\- Then take me.

He stopped kissing her suddenly.

\- Arya, I’ve waited so long to hear this from you, but... I can not. Not here, not now.

She did not understand. After so many days of uncertainty, after so many nights of reluctance and after so much insistence to escape his onslaughts, Aegon had refused her, just when she was fit and prepared.

\- Why?

\- We are in a stock of wine, we have just escaped an attack on our lives, we are filthy and nervous. When I take you, I want everything to be perfect.

Arya bit her lip. The first time she wasn’t dressed in silk or blushing in a soft mattress. She was thirsty, lying on the earthy ground of a forest, with grass clinging to her hair, her robes full of leaves, with Gendry on top of her. She would tell Aegon that none of that mattered, but Arya knew it was no use to argue with him.

\- You're stupid, Your Grace.

\- Careful, - he said - you're talking to a king. I could have you killed. 

\- Now could you?

\- Perhaps I'll forgive you for this insolence, if...

\- If?

\- If you bathe with me.

Arya chuckled.

\- Bathe with you?

\- Yes, we’re stinking of pig shit.

\- Speak for yourself, Your Grace. I didn’t fall to the ground as you did. 

\- Oh? If I remember correctly, it was you who pushed me.

\- To save your life.

\- You'll bathe with me anyway.

He took her hand and they climbed the endless staircases. As they left the other passageway, Duck was waiting for him at his doorstep.

\- Send some servants to prepare a bath for us. And I do not want to hear comments on that. - Aegon said.

Duck seemed very amused. Aegon only rolled his eyes.

They waited for five minutes. The bathhouse’s water was steaming and the place was scented with herbs, roots and other delicacies. Arya was able to identify the scent of lavender and sandalwood. He put his hand into the water to measure the temperature, then he began to undress. The golden light of the candles reflected on his skin. Arya could not help but compare him to Gendry. Aegon was almost hairless, while Gendry had thick black hair all over his chest. Gendry was strong and muscular where Aegon was slender and gracious. Aegon was fair where Gendry was dark.

\- Aren’t you going to take off your clothes? Do you want me to do it for you? - He smirked.

\- Thank you for your kindness, my king, but I can do it myself.

First Arya took off her boots, then began untying the knots of her tunic. Aegon stared at her with desire. Her hair covered her breasts. She began to blush. Was she too skinny? Too plain? Arya covered her body a little more, feeling embarrassed.

\- Don’t. - He said, coming closer and slowly pulling her into the tub. She compleid. - The first time I laid eyes on you, you were bare just like that, and you certainly didn’t look as shy as you look now.

Aegon dived, and then the water turned blue. When she looked at his hair, some of the dye had been washed. The dark blue tone of his locks were now turquoise.

\- I used to think that crimson and black were your colors, but blue suits you well enough. 

He did not respond, just stared at her body as if hypnotized.

\- Let me wash you.

The room seemed to be filled more and more with damp and hot steam. Aegon positioned himself behind her and began to wash her back. Arya felt sleepy and lay in his embrace, propping her body against his and sitting between his legs.

\- I could stay like this forever.

\- Why don’t you? - He asked.

Why don’t I? She thought about what it would be like to be his queen, live in the Red Keep and attend to court affairs. But no, that was not the life she wanted. She wanted her family, her people’s safety and a world with no more darkness. 

\- You know why.

\- Do you dislike the thought of being my queen that much? 

His queen. Queens are polite and refined and elegant. I'm nothing.

\- I will not adorn your halls, attend to more masquerades and accept petty lord’s tyrannies. Life in the North is hard and relentless. The amusements of the southern court are nothing more than childish play in our eyes. I have whole kingdoms to help rebuild, Aegon. I can not just abandon them for another title.

He sighed, looking more sad than annoyed. - I don’t want you as a garnish, Arya. I want you as my wife, my counselor, the person who would help me rule the Kingdom. You have the purest blood, you have to learn to value it. Think about the peace among the people and the prestige your House would have...

She bit her lip and looked at her wrinkled fingers.

\- I already have a Kingdom... Aegon, do we really have to talk about it? How do you want me? Like a southern lady with a crown on her head? I have duties as well, you know? First Gendry was complaining about my birth, now you complain that I do not value my position -

\- Gendry? - He interrupted. - Who's Gendry?

 

~

 

Jeyne Heddle POV:

There he was, hammering swords and polishing his helm. Jeyne did not know the bullheaded helm until the northern princess brought it back to him. Gendry's blue eyes gleamed on the limpid steel, forming a twisted reflection. Gendry has always been quiet, but lately he's been quieter than ever. All this because of Arya Stark, of course. Jeyne never imagined that he would be the type to fall in love with a highborn lady, but Arya was different. She was unlike any woman the Seven Kingdoms ever knew. Some claimed that she was a vile sorceress who knew various poisons and subjected the wolves and all luck of creatures of the night to her will, but the Northerners and the people of the Riverlands seemed to love her; saying that she protected them and didn’t mind joining the commoners. She could wield a sword as well as any man and rode like the wind. She was pretty, fearless and insightful. Jeyne and Willow were born from a House of humble knights who held no lands or castles. Princess Arya, however, had the highest blood of two Warden Houses. It was perfectly natural for Gendry to be in love with her, but even so, Jeyne wished he was not. She was only thinking about the best for him. He was a sworn knight of the Brotherhood who vowed to protect the children, moreover, he was baseborn. Princesses do not marry bastard blacksmiths, that was known. Arya Stark at this moment must be eating blackberries with cream on the king's table. Gendry knew it as well, he knew it better than anyone. But even so, that did not stop him from daydreaming and sighing. Handsome, strong and stubborn Gendry. Maybe one day he'll marry her. Or Willow. Jeyne poured the rest of the water into the boiler, wishing...

 

~

 

Aegon POV:

Focus. He needed focus. Yes, just a few hours ago Arya was naked in his arms and he did nothing but wash her. He wanted, gods, how he wanted... to do more. But that night had been truculent and they were tired. There was something that would not let him rest, though.

\- Tell me, Varys, who is this Gendry? I've heard the name before, from Sansa Stark's sworn shield, Brienne of Tarth. - Arya refused to tell, but Varys would tell. Varys always tells, though this time he looked uncomfortable.

\- I assure you it is no one of importance, Your Grace; just a bastard.

\- There are many bastards in the Realm. I want to know who is this one.

He... is Robert Baratheon's son with a tabern wench. When the woman died, I sent the boy to be a blacksmith's apprentice. Cersei wanted him dead, of course. To rid the child from harm I arranged for him to be recruited to the Watch. My little birds could no longer locate him. Not long ago I thought he was dead, but I discovered he served as Lord Beric's outlaw knight.

Fire burned in Aegon's veins as if it were the green flammable liquid of the Alchemist’s Guild. He was so angry that he drank a whole bottle of wine, when usually he never drank more than two goblets. Robert’s bastard. Arya not only knew but was close friends to the bastard son of the man who killed his father. Now an unknown hatred took possession of his body, hatred for bastards. They are children of lust and weak of heart. Was that why she wanted to go back to the North? To stay with the bastard? Aegon got up without saying a word to Varys and left his quarters, slamming the door abruptly. He went looking for Arya and found her practicing alone in the small hall, fighting with a grace he could only dream of having. The alcoholic content began to take effect and his balance was clumsy.

\- Practicing, my lady? Mayhaps it will be useful when a bastard tries to lay his hands on you.

She turned to him with an incredulous look.

\- What are you talking about?

\- You know damn well what I'm talking about. I'm talking about your little friend, Robert's bastard.

\- Do you know about Gendry?

\- I have all the means to know. Did you fuck him?

\- You are drunk.

\- I asked you if you fucked the bastard. Is that what you intend to do? To reevaluate between him and me?

Arya hit his face with a wooden shield and kicked his stomach, knocking him to the ground. Aegon put his fingers up to his nose and realized he was bleeding.

\- You just... hit the king ...

She straddled his lap and buried her sword in the dirt on the side of his head.

\- You're not the first king I hit. You will never speak of bastards with me like that again, Your Grace.

She got up, picked up the sword and the shield and left him there. He must have fainted because of the wine and the loss of blood, but when he woke one of his King's Guard knights looked at him desperately, trying to shake him.

\- Your Grace, did someone hurt you? Should I call the maester? - He asked.

\- No, no. It was just my carelessness, I drank too much and ended up stumbling. Did something happen?

\- Jon Snow is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Aegon can be a little bitch.


	14. Chapter 14

Jon had never set a foot on southern lands and Gods, was he anxious. Truth be told; he could no longer stand the hard black bread and the salty herring paste he ate at the ship, no matter how bad the Wall's food tasted. Ghost and Rickon did not seem to care, though. Gods knew what Rickon had to eat during his stay in Skagos.

\- It’s too hot! - His brother complained.

Cousin, he corrected himself.

\- The south is hot. - Jon messed his hair in the same way he used to do with Arya. Rickon's auburn hair was long and unkempt. It was not appropriate for a highborn lord to wear his hair like that in a royal meeting. Still, Jon could not bring himself to care. The Northerners were stiff, severe, and wasted no time worrying about sweet fragrances and combed hair. It did not matter if it was summer or spring, for winter was always coming. Maybe not for Sansa, Sansa always cared about her appearance. At first Jon had a hard time remembering things, especially Sansa. Rickon was difficult too, he was just a baby after all. Robb was still there, and Ned Stark, and Bran, his Uncle Benjen and even Lady Catelyn, but Arya was the only one who Jon remembered perfectly when he came back. His little sister. Only Arya made Jon feel like his heart was beating again. If he was in King's Landing, it was for Arya, not for King Aegon.

Rickon was right, the heat was unbearable. Ghost was panting with his tongue out. Jon hadn’t brought many guards, most were wildlings. If the northerners were bothered by them, he couldn’t even imagine the reaction of the perfumed southerners lords. Gods be good, King's Landing stinks. He couldn’t tell if the stench exuded from the villager’s latrines or the sumptuous red-brick castle.

\- Winterfell is bigger. - Rickon proclaimed solemnly.

Aye, but Red Keep wasn’t burned and looted, Jon thought. Suddenly he remembered the tragic Summerhall, where Rhaegar was born... his father.

No, his father will always be Eddard Stark.

\- Lord Snow, - said the royal messenger approaching - His Grace, the king, awaits you. Please follow me.

Jon followed, behind him came Rickon and his half dozen guards. He would have brought more guards had he known Rickon would come. Little flies landed on his horse, a strong brown stallion who was uneasy near Ghost. Even the poor messenger looked frightened.

It is good that there is a place covered for Ghost, the furr and his red eyes won’t stand the solar incision. If they can keep dragons, they can certainly keep wolves. Fortunately, the afternoon would come to an end in the dark twilight, and the pine-eye sickening scent could already be felt even outside the castle.

\- Open the gates! - Cried the messenger.

Rickon was the first to enter. He rode very well, but still not as well as Arya. In Winterfell they said Lady Lyanna could ride like a centaur. Arya was the same. She was waiting for them.

To Jon's horror, Rickon jumped off the horse with incalculable speed, and jumped into his sister's arms. They were alike, even if not physically. That made Jon smile.

\- Little sister. - He said.

\- Jon! - She exclaimed, running into his arms like she used to do as a child. - I didn’t know you had brought Rickon.

\- He didn’t. - Mumbled his wildling companion with broad shoulders and frowning. - Little shit came hidden. We found him three days later with his luggage.

Arya laughed at that but a sense of consternation passed through her eyes.

\- Bran... is he alone?

She always worried about her pack.

\- He's with Meera and Val. - Jon had thought of bringing Val, showing her a truly warm world and dressing her in silks and velvets, but Jon liked her the way she was. Ghost, Arya, Bran and Rickon also liked her, and that was all that mattered.

\- Come on, - Arya said, taking his hands in hers. -You must be hungry. Dinner’s to be served. You can leave Ghost in the kennels along with Nymeria and the other wolves. I want to introduce you to someone. He was your milk brother.

Oh, Arya.. the things I do for you.

He greeted Sansa, bathed, changed his clothes and talked to Edric Dayne, his newly discovered milk brother. His eyes were purplish and though he was a grown man, there was something essentially naive in his air. For a moment, Jon feared that Arya was in love with him, but he soon dismissed the idea. Edric Dayne was smart, but very soft, very passive, he could never tame her fury.

It was night time and no sign of king Aegon.

The table wasn’t really large, so there would be few guests. They all sat waiting for His Grace.

I was a king too, he thought.

But the Southerners had a refinement that the Northmen lacked. Even the food was exquisite, but less than he imagined it would be. Apparently Aegon liked dornish food, and it was nothing more than expected considering he was half dornish. So was Jon, Jon was born in Dorne.

There was red meat bathed in cognac, pepper and pistachio sauce and a red rice with mushrooms. Rickon complained that they served him pomegranate juice instead of wine. The doors opened and from there came a young man of impeccable posture, head up, silver hair and black and red robes. In his purple eyes there was a sad countenance.

\- Your Grace, - he said, standing up.

King Aegon stepped forward and held out his hand.

\- Lord Snow, I've heard quite a lot about you.

\- I dont doubt it. - Jon answered, looking at Arya. The king also looked at her more than was considered appropriate.

They could not be more different, no more than he and Robb were. Robb was sturdy, with coppery hair, blue eyes like the sky. Jon had brown, opaque hair, gray eyes, a long face, and a slender, graceful physiognomy. Aegon had platinum hair, purple eyes and high cheekbones. Was he really his brother?

\- Please, make yourself at home.

 

~

 

Aegon's POV

 

Aegon did not receive Jon Snow, he was too busy wiping the blood from his nose, all thanks to Arya.

He was wrong. He knew he was, but what kind of reaction was she waiting for? Arya loved the bastard with such ferocity... She would never love Aegon like that, now he knew it. He was sad, shaken, and guilty. But most of all, he was nervous. King Aegon VI Targaryen was nervous about having to meet his bastard brother. He thought about drinking more wine, but the wine had already done enough damage earlier today. At least his nose was whole.

When he entered the hall, Jon Snow was sitting next to Arya. Snow was his honored guest, but he chose to sit next to his sister. The candles burned bright and reflected the fire in his eyes, like shiny steel. His brother. Would Rhaegar like him better than Aegon? He surely liked Lyanna better than Elia. That made him sad. Arya liking Snow better made him sad. 

At first Aegon felt frightened. They were extremely similar, both harsh, stern, dark and mysterious. He did not know that Snow would bring the little one either. But Rickon Stark did not look like Jon at all. He had the same eyes and hair as Sansa Stark. Great, they would have a sweet family dinner.

If only Arya could be my family...

"I'll give you the world" he'd say.

"I do not want the world!" She'd answer stubbornly.

He would give her his heart as well, but she didn’t want it either. Maybe all this had been a mistake. It would have been better if he had never laid eyes on her. It was all her fault.

And yet, he loved her. She loved the bastard better, though. Did she love Robert's bastard as well? Aegon could not bear to think about it.

Spit on my face, stick me with your sword, kill me, but please do not touch him. Never go back to him.

The king tried to swallow his hatred for bastards, just tonight. For Arya.

\- Lord Snow, I've heard quite a lot about you.

\- I dont doubt it.

He knew Arya only too well.

\- Please, make yourself at home.

\- Thank you, Your Grace.

\- You must be Rickon. - He said to the unruly boy.

\- Yes, - he replied, then turned his attention to the plate of food.

Yes, Your Grace, Aegon had the urge to correct it, but he just sat down.

\- So, Jon, how was the trip south? - Arya asked.

\- Pleasant.

\- Terrible. - Rickon corrected, devouring a large piece of caramelized onion.

That amused Aegon. The boy had a tongue as sharp as Arya’s.

\- I hope King's Landing is to your liking, Lord Snow. Your... cousin spoke fondly of you.

\- Arya overestimates me.

\- I do not!

\- I'm sure she does not. Tell me, my lord, why have you abandoned your position as king?

Snow looked at him with icy gray orbits. Only then did Aegon realize that there were scars around his eyes.

\- A throne is no place for a bastard. The North belongs to my brother Bran, I just waited until he was of age.

As he said this, his half-brother gazed at Sansa. She looked uncomfortable.

\- I see.

When everything was settled, Aegon went looking for Arya. He grabbed her by her arm and said:

\- You’re too bad for my pride.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of maturity and forgiveness. ;)

\- You're too bad for my pride.

\- Whatever do you mean? - She asked.

Every time Arya gave in to Aegon's charm, he would find a way to ruin everything. Maybe it was better that way.

\- Aren’t you satisfied? I brought your dear brother to the capital.

\- And what do you think of that?

He was caught by surprise.

\- I... what?

\- Do you like having Jon here? Do you see him as an equal?

Aegon blushed and looked away.

\- Yes. - He said.

\- You're lying.

She could hear his fists clenching.

\- Well, what did you expect? I never hated bastards, Arya. At least not until I found out you loved one.

Arya could hit his pretty face again. 

\- I have loved a bastard my whole life. I love Jon. Don’t you love your cousins?

She knew he did. He loved all of them. He loved Lady Nym and Tyene and even Obara. Aegon took a deep breath.

\- I suppose. But try to understand, Arya... everything is different when it comes to you. I know I've been acting foolishly. I want to solve our issues, just please tell me how.

There was real regret in his eyes. He was so boyish sometimes. Sharp glances could see right through his imponence. A little lost boy craving for... something. It made Arya's heart ache. She had once been a lost little girl, wandering in a frozen hell among dead bodies, or walking alone across the damp fogs of Braavos, or on the deck of a ship tasting the sea salt that mingled with the rainwater as sailors sang their lonely songs.

\- Come on. - She said, holding out her hand for him to take.

\- Where are we going?

\- To the kennels.

They went down the stairs once more. The strong scent of the dogs pointed the way.

When he saw her, he was frightened. A dozen wolves were around Nymeria. She was big and fierce, all creatures feared her presence. Would a dragon fear her, too?

The molten gold eyes met Aegon's glittering amethysts, and behind the bars, she approached.

\- She likes you.

\- How do you know? - He asked without looking away.

\- Well, she did not growl and did not even try to attack you.

\- It's a start. - He laughed.

What seemed to draw more attention from him however was the pale face of the direwolf watching him from the shadows, still as a specter.

\- Ghost likes the darkness.

\- He does not howl. - That was a statement, not a question.

\- No. - She replied.

They were silent for a long time listening to the crackling of the torches and watching the wolves. The gray cousins of Nymeria never left her side. Without her, they become dispersed, weakened. They needed guidance.

\- Tell me about this Gendry of yours. - Aegon said so quietly that it made her suspicious. There was no trace of harshness in his voice, just melancholy.

\- He was... he's a blacksmith, and he's good at what he does. Nymeria liked him too. We met in the Flea Bottom, and he saw me at my worst. We were together from King's Landing to the Trident. Joffrey's Hound took me, then I fled to Braavos, but when I came back to Westeros, I found Gendry serving my... my mother. He helped me, Aegon... if not for him I’d...

\- And why did you separate?

\- I... I asked him to come with me. He didn’t, though.

\- Why?

Because he did not love me enough, she wanted to answer.

\- I don’t know.

But she knew. Deep inside, in her heart of hearts. Gendry would never see her as his equal. She was a Stark to the bone, and he hated highborns, but he did love her in his own way. They had separated destinies, they belonged in different worlds, and yet...

She was the one to kiss him, breaking the barrier between them. She thought Gendry was hesitant at first when she saw the redness on his face, but instead of pulling away he held her close and the two ended that night on the earthy ground of the forge. It was painful, but Arya swallowed her tears as he buried himself inside her. The memory brought back the sensation of his pungent beard brushing against her skin. Gendry loved her, but he couldn’t stay with her, no more than she could stay with Aegon. Now she understood Gendry. And Aegon as well. 

She wanted to cry.

 

~

Aegon looked at the glass of wine and for a moment he was tempted, but he knew that nothing good would come from drinking while he was disturbed. Instead, he decided to visit the Sept.

Aegon never considered himself a religious man, but he remembered Lemore's teachings and praying to the Warrior during his campaign.

The moonlight pierced the stained-glass windows and gleamed on the marble of the statues. He then contemplated the faces of each god. The Mother was gentle and merciful, but Aegon never had a mother he remembered. The Father’s countenance was stiff and strong, and as Aegon looked at him, he saw the face of Jon Connington judging all of his actions. The Maid was beautiful and virtuous, but what good would it do for him to pray for beauty? Mayhaps he’d pray for the Smith to fix things up, but he was angry at the Smith. The Stranger only looked at him with empty eyes, waiting. He shivered.

The Warrior was always a good choice in hard times. A flat helmet on the top covered part of his godly features, exposing only his eyes and lips and protecting his nose, forehead and all the rest. The Warrior reminded him of his aunt Daenerys, the aunt with whom Aegon one day longed to marry in attempt to ascend to the Throne. She couldn’t wield any weapons, but the fierceness of her spirit was evident. She eventually chose peace. She chose Meereen and the disgusting Ghiscari culture. Daenerys was good at tearing down the old world, but she wasn’t that good at building a new one, at least not as good as Aegon, who was all prepared for it. Dragons plant no trees. She learned to tolerate some injustices for the sake of peace, just like him. That was politics, putting a price on peace. But who was buying? In Westeros, the great lords with the largest stocks of various resources. In Meereen, ex-slavers plated with gold and precious gems. Aegon liked to have more patience with hypocritical and tedious politicians than Daenerys, but since Arya arrived, he was getting more and more different. Sometimes Aegon felt his hands shaking, and his thoughts kept wandering to Ilyrio saying that the same thing happened to Viserys, the real son of the Mad King. Again, the conflict, the three heads. The king that existed within him could not be reconciled with Arya’s rebel senses. The possessive dragon wrapped around velvet wings told him to steal her, to forget diplomacy and compromise, to hunt her down to the seventh hell and damn what others will think, especially the bastards. But in the most sensitive part of his soul, there was sorrow. It was the Aegon who dreamed of a beautiful and functional world, a world where he could stay with whomever he wanted, where he and Arya made love every day and every night, where he could get rid of the swords of the Throne that cut him, and the weight of the crown on his head.

The Red Keep was luxurious and powerful. Being king was not the worst of hells, but it was his own.

Aegon decided to light a candle to the Crone and pray for wisdom.

\- I have heard your name many times when I was instructed in the Faith, and with your bright gold lantern you guided the ways of my reign. Amid the chaos and destruction that were imposed by the wrath of men, I caused the kingdom to prosper again. I'm sure you looked at me all this time, so please do not leave me now. Give me wisdom, take away my darkest days. Kill the boy and let the man be born.

A song seemed to chant through the corridors of the castle, a song of howls, howls of wolves that danced around the flame. A sense of resignation took hold of him, but also a sense of passion. Simple and pure passion. Maybe it was a signal to give in to the fire while it still burns, but not the fire of destruction. Another type of fire.

He left the Sept and went to Arya's room. It was a new room, since Rickon and Jon now slept in the quartes she and Sansa shared before. But this time, he made sure she wouldn’t share a room with anyone but him.

Arya opened her eyes, confused, and then she saw him sitting with his hands folded under his chin.

\- Aegon? - She said softly, still in doubt if the dark form was him.

\- Yes. - He did not move. - I like to watch you sleep. I've been alone for too long, and I am very soon to be alone again. Even in sleep, your presence is a marvel.

\- Oh, Aegon...

There was a silence, a pause, an evaluation, and an unannounced conversation. She tossed the blanket aside, and Aegon walked over to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I hope you guys like it. Don’t forget to leave your comments and share your opinions!


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